When I wake, I find myself in a fluff of clouds. Fine Italian linen, white with yellow flower prints covered my naked body like peplos. I sighed.
"Well, good morning." I hear my best friend mutter from beside me. She was dressed elegantly.
Her voice undoubtedly had startled me, realising my naked skin under the sheets, I clutch the linens for life looking at the women sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, looking at me like a cartoon character, blinking rather forcefully.
"G-good morning." I replied, sitting up, the linens hiding my breasts as I sit up, assessing the unfamiliar surroundings.
"Is this how you look everyday when you get up?" Blaire asks, frowning.
Her frown makes me frown as well.
Like how?
A mess?
"What-" Frowning, I offer the well dressed woman a confused expression.
"No wonder why Devil-o wouldn't let go of you." She says standing up, I hear her heels against the floor as she stretches her arm above her head.
"What are you on about?" I ask, falling back on the bed, pulling the covers to my chest once again.
I don't recall falling asleep last night.
The last scene I remember from the night prior was pulling up to the house, ripping the car door open as i hurriedly got out of the vehicle, claustrophobic to the confinement as I watched the house burning. The roof to be exact.
Immobile, shocked and unable to gauge anything, I stood still like a stone statue watching the roof burn as if it were a movie staged right in front of my eyes.
The yellow red blue flames soaring up high into the night sky. Painting the dark canvas with horrible, horrible art work of lost memories and burnt smoke.
Standing on the front yard, I felt my world break and burn with the flames. Feeling every little memory turn into vapor.
I recalled all the laughter and smiles. I recalled Blaire's yelling that she was home. Angelo's constant barging in with his shoes on.
"Come on, tadpole." Angelo had said, his voice slightly cracked as I knelt on the freshly grown grass, screaming, yelling, crying for anybody- somebody to stop my home from burning to ashes, vaguely remembering Bertie and Blaire by my side, the dogs cowering, scared of my unkempt reaction.
I don't remember much after that other than I clung to Angelo, whispering things like, 'why? What did we ever do to anybody?'
"Where are we?" I ask, looking up at the high ceiling, painted.
"Oh, in a hotel." Blaire muses, examining her nails, laying down beside me, pulling the covers to her chest again, sharing it with me.
"In a hotel?" I ask turning to face her.
"Yes." She agrees. "In Florence. I can't pronounce your spaghetti tortellini hotel name, sorry."
Despite of the grey cloud looming over my mood and the turn that life took last night, her humor makes me laugh.
"Don't get me wrong, I love this country." She says.
"It doesn't have a bitchy weather like London, as if her boyfriend is fucking her best friend. I love the food, the people are kind and lovely. I love the shops and all but just the language though-"
I chuckle.
"I can't seem to understand any." She complains.
"Maybe you should get a tutor." I say, looking up at the ceiling.
"Maybe." Blaire huffs. "I feel left out because everybody don't want to speak English."
I nod. "Reasonable."
She nods.
A short silence follows us as Blaire sighs again. "How do you feel?" She asks.
"I don't know." I reply to my friend.
"I'm sorry." She adds.
"Not you fault, bubs." I say. "You didn't do nothing."
"I have this raging anger through me." She says covering her eyes with her fingers, peaking out from thee gaps. "Like whichever mother fuckers did this, I want to hurt him. Like really bad."
I shake my head.
"Like- like I want to really hurt him." She adds. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"You're angry." I reply. "You want to show your anger, it does not make you or anybody a bad person."
"However, if you do really really hurt him, it makes you unreasonable." I add.
"People aren't good or bad, they're just-" I throw my hand toward the ceiling, ad if throwing a handful of imaginary dust at the ceiling.
"They're just- misguided. Brain washed. Mid understood." I say, not quiet finding the right word to voice my thoughts.
"I really like your concept, bubbles." Blaire says. "But I don't believe you. People are good and bad. Like you're good and Janice is bad. She is a bitch. She's greedy. She's mean."
"Blaire!" I warn. "She's your mother."
"I'll tell you what." Blaire looks at me. "Coralyn has been more of a mother to me in these past weeks than Janice has been in twenty years and also, she can fuck right off with her money and all that malarkey."
I shake my head.
Sometimes making Blaire understand was the hardest job anybody can bestow me with. So I don't bother her with her sudden outburst with anger with her mom.
"Are you excited?" I guess turning to face her, popping myself up on my elbow. "For your tour?"
Blaire shrugs. "I'll see, when you feel well."
I look at the women perplexed. "You are waiting up for me?"
"Isn't that obvious?" She asks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know nothing about this place, I don't know your spaghetti language- so obviously I need a guide."
I laugh, shaking my head.
"But I know you might not want to go and sightsee with me or stuff your face with street foods when you aren't feeling that grand." Blaire says.
I frown. "Blaire- don't treat me like a glass doll, please."
"I am grand. And I will gladly go with you to wherever you want-"
But the woman ignores me. "So this trip to Florence, let's be lazy and get drunk and have ice cream."
"I can get dressed if you want to catch a breakfast at the local store." I say getting up hoping this mad hatter will change her mine for a change. "It will but take a minute-"
"Bubbles-" Blaire warns. "I said what I said. I want to spend this trip being lazy as fuck. Okay? You in or out?"
"Blaire-"
"In or out, woman?" She glares at me playfully.
"In." I reply with a slight nod. "In."
"Now that's good." Blaire pipes up. "One thing we be agreeing this morning."
I chuckle, securing a knot of the sheets around and under my arms as Blaire dials the number to the room service.
"Ciao, room service?" She asks. "We need a breakfast platter for two. One litre tubs of ice cream, vanilla and dark chocolate please, if you will. We're depressed."
I laugh.
"And we're sad too, so send some chocolates as well." Blaire ends the call.
"You are crazy." I day getting up from the bed.
"I'd do just about anything for you, bubbles." She replies to my accusation.
I smile with a shake of my head. "I'd do anything for you too, Blaire."
We fall silent after that, as I walk toward the balcony door, pushing the blinds toward the sides, I push open the door, letting the fresh morning air in to the room.
"What's in the breakfast platter?" I ask, unmindful, my gaze drifting over to the vast properties of the hotel we resided in.
It was undoubtedly one of those suits at the back, that had absolute privacy. From tourists as well as locals.
"I don't know." Blaire replies. "We'll just figure out when it gets here."
I nod, absentmindedly.
"All your stuff is here though." Blaire says. I hear her heels clicking against the floor as she too enters the balcony standing beside me. "And your jeweleries."
I nod.
"Only the top burned." Blaire adds. "Y'all just have to rebuild the roof, everything is pretty much okay."
I nod again.
"Alyssa and Cora send you presents too." She adds. "I might have peaked."
"Why presents?" I ask.
She shrugs. "Maybe because they were totally kept away from what was going on and probably they wanted to be there for you."
I nod. "I suppose."
"Yeah." Blaire sighs. "You're worrying me."
"How so?" I ask frowning.
"Your lack of emotions is worrying me." She says flatly.
"I'm fine, Blaire." I reply. "Really."
She hums nodding.
"It's not too late to get into sightseeing and stuff our face with street food." I offer.
"Nah." She says. "I'm good."
I nod.
"There is a bar in this hotel. We can get shit faced at night and not worry about creepy men."
"I conquer." I laugh. "But creepy men are everywhere."
"True." Blaire pouts.
Blaire and I have breakfast that was delivered by room service in a circular table with white linen table cloth.
Fancy.
The breakfast was an expensive assortment of fruits along with cheese. Half boiled eggs with fresh baked sliced bread arrangement of mini croissants and some other sweets. Macaroons.
I love macaroons.
After our breakfast, Blaire says she would need to take care of Roman and his limp self.
I totally don't want to go where she means anything but his sprained ankle.
After Blaire leaves, I call the room service who comes in a moment later to clean up the setting and after I lay down on the bed watching the gold painting on the high raised ceiling.
I wonder if it's hand painted.
This is an old hotel, there is a hundred percent guess that it might be hand painted, then my gaze shifts to the small setting with a small circular table and two chairs.
On both the chairs there were bags. On one chair it was mine and Angelo's duffel bags and on the other there were a number of bags. Branded bags.
I sighed turning to my side.
I wish Blaire would be back already to fill up the gaping hole in my body that I feel right now.
Or Angelo.
I haven't seen him since he coaxed me up from the grass and lead me inside the car while the firefighters worked tirelessly to stop the fire.
I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't care if it was burnt or ruined or broken or even if we didn't have a bed to sleep in.
I didn't care.
It was the first place that was slowly becoming very very personal to me.
A safe abode where I can smile and laugh and cry and be sad but still somehow content for whatever reason.
I missed it terribly. I missed our bed. I missed the linen on our bed. I missed the kitchen. I missed the lawn.
Everything.
Sighing, I reached for my phone. It had been laying on the bedside table top, silent and dark like always. When I unlock the device, there are missed calls from Alyssa and Coralyn both.
I try to call Alyssa first but her number says out of range so I call Coralyn who picks up on the second ring.
"My sweet nugget." She answers. "How are you?"
"Hello, sweetness." I reply. "I'm- I'm fine." I sigh.
"I know bub." She replies but I can tell that she was awkward.
Which I completely understand given that it was a stupid situation indeed.
"But don't you worry, baby. Everything will be better than it ever was." She adds.
Her words make me smile. Its nothing exceptional, just simple words of reassurance.
But it's the way she says them. Like she was reassuring her child.
And I like that.
"I hope so." I reply. "How are you?"
"Good." She says. "I send you some gifts."
"Thank you." I sigh. "There was no need for them-"
"Don't be silly." The older woman said. "I wish I could be there with you but-"
"I understand." I say with a sigh.
"You didn't even let us know about the shoot out and all that you are going through, sweetness." She cooes.
I chuckle with a shake of my head. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"I am a mom, Ariel." She says. "I cannot but worry for my kids. Especially when they are hiding deadly things from me."
"Awe, but I'll be fine though." I reply hoping to lighten the mood.
I feel as if Coralyn was feeling unimportant being kept away form every little thing that was going on these days.
And suddenly all these coming into view was too much for her to handle.
This was probably the only reason Roman and Angelo didn't want to tell her nothing.
"I know, maa." She sighs. "I always wanted a baby girl but yeah whatever. I sent you some candies, share them. Okay?"
"Yes." I laugh. "I'll share them with Blaire."
"Thank you. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetness." I reply with a laugh. "I'll see you soon."
"Yes." She squeals. "Have fun in Florence. Make some memories."
"Okay."
"I'll let you go. Need to make lunch, okay?"
"Okay, mummy." I giggle. "I'll call you soon."
"Please do." She sighs before I offer her I a 'I promise I will'
Coralyn ends the call leaving me alone with the silence once again.
I would take anything but silence as of this moment.
Anything but silence because, in my presence, all I can see is the flames.
All I Hear is the commotion of everybody who was working to save our house.
The only thing I can feel in silence is how I could do nothing but sit motionless on the grass as I saw the flames, those ruthless flames engulf my house like a monster.
Sighing I turned to my side, swiping my phone unlock once again, I scrolled through my contracts.
Angelo, Alyssa, Blaire, Coralyn, Roman. That's about it. I think. Those are the only person on my contact list.
But- but, they are the only one who matters. I think. Drawing a breath into my lungs, I dial Angelo's cell.
I haven't seen that man since he helped me into the car, pulling me away from our burning property.
Momentarily, I think about Coco and Poodle. Angelo had them last night. Bertie showed up from the mass of fire workers, both of those puppies clutched tight to his arm, his left arm scorched by a good measure.
He went to save Poodle who had abruptly ran into the house as soon as the fire started. Bertie had assured me it was nothing he couldn't handle.
I dial Angelo's cell not wanting to think about the horrific situations of the night prior.
'The number you are trying to reach is busy now' the operator's recording said before the call automatically disconnected making me roll my eyes.
'Where are you?' I typed a quick text waiting for the tiny bubbles to appear on the screen while I stare at the blank frame of the message page.
The bubbles don't appear after a minute. Naturally annoyed I throw the phone on the bed beside me, getting up for a much required bath.
I fill the tub with warm water while rummaging the hotel provided sanitary items to look for some bath salts.
Coming out empty hand, I pick their strawberry scented bubble bath pouring some of the soapy liquid in to the water as it starts bubbling almost immediately spreading the bathroom with the strawberry tone.
I sigh. I am not a fan of strawberry essence albeit the fruit had a especial place in my heart.
However I don't even prefer bubble bath. A simple citrus salt would do instead of a fancy bottle of bubble bath.
Pondering over whatever the reason was behind my headache, I untied the sheet, letting the linen cascade down my body, covering me up with chills.
Weird, I think.
Florence weather is reasonably warm but yet I feel somewhat cold. Sighing I place myself into the warm water.
Slight change in the temperature covers away the goosebumps on my skin.
"Buongiorno." I hear.
The voice makes me turn my head toward the doorway where Angelo stands. A mess.
His hair as if has been the constant victim of his hand running though them. He was still in the same cloths that of the night prior.
"Buongiorno." I replied in the same monotone, mirroring his.
Why does his voice sound like this? I think.
So distant and empty.
It hasn't been this way for sometime now. The thought troubles me.
What was wrong?
Did I render him some wrong notion that he didn't like.
So far I only remember getting into the car with him.
A slight uncomfortable silence follows us.
Okay, Bubbles. I say to myself, consoling. Breathe. Calm down. Breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
"You were gone for a while." I mumble scooping up some of the suds from the tub and rubbing on my arms.
"I was." He replies. "How do you feel?"
Scared. Really scared, Angelo.
I shrug to his question instead of offering him a verbal answer.
Angelo sighs.
"Where were you?" I ask, wanting for this unusual silence and monotone between us pass for good.
It's never welcoming. This grey feeling.
I loathe it.
"Why?" He asks as if offended for some reason.
"Simply asking, Angelo." I reply. "You don't have to answer the question with a question."
He stays quiet but I can sense his presence behind me. His piercing gaze at the back of my head.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to tell-"
"I don't." He snaps.
Okay.
I nod.
"I don't want to tell you Ariel." He says. "Not every time you need to know my whereabouts."
"If you say so." I reply, meekly, trying to his the slight ping of hurt, focussing to wash myself with the slippery soap suds before finally giving up and pulling the plug to drain water.
There was a small rug before the tub so the floor doesn't get wet, stepping on the rug, I make a beeline to the shower, hoping to scrub the slippery stupid soap like stuff off me.
But no matter how much I scrub on my already red skin with the poof like loofah, the slickness of my skin doesn't go away.
"Stupid soap." I cuss throwing the mesh like flower loofah on the floor, feeling my eyes prick with red hot tears, finally a sob breaking out of my chest.
I tap my head against the marble shower wall, feeling the small thumps matching my heartbeat as I sob, cry my eyes out, my legs giving away as I slide all the way to the shower floor, arms hugging myself, as I rock my body back and forth.
A coping method that isn't healthy but somewhat helpful.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hello! Hey guys! Its been long lmao. Sorry for disappearing for eight solid days. I've- I've had it bad.
There was some issues I needed to figure put but whatever that was, glad it's over and what not. I apologise for the depressing chapter which makes no sense.
Also, why do you think Angel is being an asshole again?
Is this going to hurt bubbles?
What do you guess for the next chapter?
Let me know, okay? Okay! Also please please please vote and comment if you are reading. Like I said y'all response makes this book available to many more people through feedback and ranking.
I love y'all!
-November.