Eternal Flame {John Allerdyce}

3

There were two things that struck Cynthia as odd the following morning, and it took several moments for her sleep-addled mind to process them. A foreign sound was present in the usually silent space of her bedroom, soft and rhythmic, reminiscent of a cat purring.

Turning her head slightly, she located the source of the noise which happened to belong to the bare figure of the man lying next to her. He was sleeping on his stomach, face nestled comfortably in a pillow, breathing long and slow. Her gaze lingered on the stubble of his jaw, the mess of hair falling across his face, and the surprisingly peaceful expression etched in his features.

As it turned out, John was also the explanation for the second thing Cynthia had noticed. Her bed, the entire room, felt significantly warmer that morning despite the chill she knew hung just beyond the frosted window. It was strange how the presence of another person could change so much, enough to disturb her usual routine and persuade her to remain beneath the blankets until the blue sky had transitioned to a pale yellow.

While John continued to sleep soundly, unaware of his surroundings, Cynthia's mind was quietly racing. She wanted to preserve this moment, the feeling of him beside her, the tingling sensation in her toes as her foot brushed his leg, and the steady hum of contentment in her heart. Moments were fleeting, terribly so, Cynthia knew that all too well. Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrated on burning a permanent image of this minute in mind. That way, whatever happened after this, she would always have this memory to return to.

The comforter shifted slightly, and the floorboards creaked beneath her weight as she slipped into a thin robe and continued on to the kitchen.

The sun was shining in full force by the time John stirred from his slumber. A groan escaped his throat, arms stretching out reflexively as a familiar smell greeted him. The scent of Jasmine. Suddenly, he remembered where he was.

Sitting up quickly, his gaze landed on Cynthia who was resting, cross legged, on the mattress beside him.

"Sleep well?" she asked casually, and brought the mug of steaming liquid in her hands to her mouth.

John wasn't able to respond. He had, in fact, slept very well but his mind was still fixated on the smell of Jasmine that pervaded his senses. It was coming from the tea, he realized, and slowly it dawned on him why he recognized it. Cynthia's room at school had always smelled of Jasmine, it was her favorite plant, so naturally he had come to associate it with her presence. The surprising thing was how comfortable it made him feel, as if he truly belonged here, in this space, in this moment of time, with the woman who was only an arm's length away.

Cynthia waited patiently for a response, aware that this situation was a delicate one for both of them. While she had always considered herself to be rather adept at predicting John's behavior, this instance was notably different. They had reached a diverging path and she had no idea which way he would take.

John shifted, turning on his side, and a strange expression crossed his face. He looked almost guilty.

"Tia, about last night. I just want to make sure that it was--I mean that was all mutual, right?"

A sly smile flitted over her features before she answered, "Don't worry, I would say everything that transpired last night was perfectly mutual."

Cynthia could understand his need for reassurance. They had only been intimate on a couple occasions prior to this and that might as well have been ages ago. She found it endearing, it reminded her that he truly cared about her feelings, emotional and otherwise.

"Actually John, what I'm more concerned with is where we go from here so I'll get right to the point. The way I see it, there are two options. We can each go our separate ways and last night can be exactly that, just a night," She paused, watching him closely, "Or, you can stay and we can work through whatever it is you've been dealing with. The second option is, however, much more complicated and could get ugly."

Cynthia gingerly slid off the bed, and turned to leave. "I'll give you some time to think about it while I make breakfast."

John watched her go, hips swaying slightly as she walked. His breath escaped in a long sigh and he rolled onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he felt like laughing. The way Cynthia had laid everything out for him so simply, it was how she always approached tough situations. The world was infinitely complex, a fact they were both well acquainted with, and yet Cynthia never wasted energy and 'what ifs' or 'should haves'. She made her choice, and stuck to it.

Now, she had given him a chance to do the same. He knew that, regardless of the night before, her words were true. If he wanted to up and leave, she would let him, no questions asked. That was one of the many things he loved about her, she didn't bullshit or play games. What's more, she was going to let him decide.

Faint sounds of cabinets being opened, dishes scraping against a tile counter, and running water in the sink gave John visions of an entirely different life. One that could be his if he stayed. Leaving would mean more cold nights, aimless wandering, and loneliness.

He knew the latter was the easier route, emotionally speaking. Loneliness he could deal with, but facing his past? Cynthia was right, staying would be difficult for both of them, and it was bound to get ugly at times. Still, a powerful force in his gut told him that running wouldn't feel right. Nothing would feel right, not like this moment did here with her.

Cynthia pretended not to notice as John stumbled his way out to the kitchen. Morning had never been his favorite time of day, and it was evident that half past eight didn't agree with him.

Slumping onto the sofa, he watched Cynthia move around through heavy-lidded eyes.

"I've got to get going, but there's more eggs in the fridge if you're still hungry."

She set a plate in front of him and gave him a once over. "There's a washer and dryer in the hall closet, and make sure you clean up after yourself while I'm gone."

Grabbing her keys, Cynthia lingered in the doorway. "Try not to disturb my plants, they're not used to having someone else here. Think you can manage on your own for a while?"

Their eyes locked across the room and John knew what she was really asking.

Are you going to stay?

An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between them, one that affirmed the decision both had unconsciously made. They were done running. No more treading water, allowing the waves to push them along. It was time to regain control, together.

"Yeah, see you soon." John replied, and he meant it.