Amanda
*
It was like watching a machine shut down. He continued to stare at Mallard like he was still trying to make sense of the news she'd just passed. The glass that had been in his hold now lay shattered on the floor, I realized several seconds after, and my first instinct was to check if he'd cut himself. I took a step closer to him to make sure he hadn't, but he stormed out the door, leaving me with his aunt.
I gave her a helpless look. She returned one back. I had to know.
"Who's Nicholas?"
"Nicholas Young. He's a family friend and business partner."
At the mention of his last name, the gears in my head clicked in place and I understood better. "Young? As in, Elizabeth Young?"
She nodded. "He was her uncle. Practically raised her, I should add."
I tried to recall what I knew about them, like the fact that Elizabeth grew up without knowing her father, and a mother who didn't want her daughter and spent her life skipping countries.
"I should go see if Finn's alright."
"Not right now, he has too much to process. Give him a little time."
I went to sit next to her and offered the glass of water. She took it, but made no move to drink from it. We stayed like that for a moment, silent, in a lavender and bergamot scented haze.
"How did he die?"
"Failing health. His last years were nothing near easy."
"It looks like he meant a lot to Finn."
"Oh, he did. He almost immortalized the man. Nicholas was Elizabeth's last surviving relative. She has no other uncles or aunts, nor siblings. It's one of the reasons Finn's so distraught. He always felt the need to look after her, and now, the only person she can call family is gone."
"Wait, her mother's gone too?"
Genevieve squirmed. "No one has set eyes on her in over two decades. At first her parents managed to keep track of where she went by monitoring her credit card use, but then that ceased when they expired and she never contacted them after that. We aren't even sure what state she's in if alive. Like her daughter, she wasn't mentally sound."
"Who is set to take over now?"
Genevieve sighed and shook her head, and I understood why his death deeply upset Finn. Not only was Nicholas dear to him, but Finn was intended to watch over their legacy through his marriage to Elizabeth.
Genevieve's phone rang and she took one slow look at it. "I'll be leaving now," she got up, ran a hand over her outfit and fixed her jewelry. "I hope we can talk more under better circumstances, Amanda. I was very happy to hear that he found you again."
I held my breath, waiting for the questions I wouldn't be able to answer. To my surprise she didn't ask any, and left. I felt an itch to go check up on Finn again. Instead of giving in, I got a broom and swept away his accident from the floor. I returned to my books, telling myself it would be the right time by the time I was done with a chapter or two.
It was a struggle to get any far. My mind kept drifting to Finn, wondering what state he was in in his apartment across the hall, or if he was there at all. My phone rang. It was Dominic. I sucked in a breath when I recalled that I'd ghosted since he took me on a date weeks ago. He called on two separate days after, both of which went ignored.
It wasn't that I held any resentments towards him. He came across like a very decent person actually, and he'd taken me to a nice restaurant which I'd learnt through an idle search on Google was very exclusive about their reservations. He hadn't acted like he was eager to please me. His effort often came across as easy and ironically effortless.
But I still had my reservations about the prospect of someone getting too close to me, whether they wanted something serious with me or not. I stared at the screen, debating picking it. I resigned and did.
"There you are, Amanda Jane Reed." Came the subtle playfulness in his husky voice.
"You promised not to use it!"
"Yeah, well, you haven't exactly been a good girl."
I closed my books and shut my laptop before laying on my back on the floor. "Because I ghosted you?" I was being direct, I knew. But I felt too exhausted to beat around the bush.
"I wasn't expecting you to admit that so quickly."
I sighed and stared up at the lights above. Even on a conversation with Dom, I was still very obsessed about Finn's wellbeing.
"I'm sorry I did. It's so difficult to find where my mind's at these days."
"You don't sound too good," his tone switched to a softer one, "are you alright?"
"Honestly? I don't know."
"Does Amanda Jane Reed want to talk about it?"
"I'll never live through that," I muttered sourly. "But I really appreciate your concern."
"Okay, seeing you're not so eager to talk about it, is there anything I could do to make you feel better?"
I contemplated, then, "Nothing I can think of right now." I didn't get people try to do this a lot. One of the exceptions was Nate, but he was my best friend and knew just what made me tick without having to ask. Another was my family, and we were close knit enough for them to know me inside out. So what I told Dominic was the truth.
"It's unfortunate that we haven't known ourselves enough. Now I'm going to have to come up with something you might not like that much."
I let out a tiny scoff. "I'm sure whatever it is won't be that bad. And ultimately, it's the thought that counts. Thanks. You don't have to by the way."
"Oh, I want to."
"Okay, this is the point where I veer this lovely conversation away from my woes. How are you?"
He sighed, but not a sad, exhausted kind. It signalled the start of a perhaps, positive answer.
"I'm doing fine. It's been a good week for me actually. My team and I delivered to a client last week and we've been getting glowing reviews and feedback, and a ton of referrals. We always deliver, but this was one of our most challenging contracts."
I didn't remember what he did. Fuck. Did he ever tell me? He must've, because I felt it in the back of my mind, somewhere, a piece of information I'd absentmindedly kept there. I thought harder, wading through memories of conversation and it finally came to me. Senior architect.
"That sounds fantastic, Dominic. You're good at what you do."
"Thank you, thank you. It should be easier thank it is, but some clients have zero patience and with their expectations above the clouds. But I love the challenge still. I love reaching above those clouds."
"That's so inspirational. I'm feeling a need to reach past some clouds too," I said, lifting a hand above my head like he could possibly see me.
He laughed. I put the phone on speaker, set it down next to my head and dropped my hands on my stomach.
"Is Finn Harris still your neighbor?"
My breathing hitched. "Yeah," came my delayed response.
"That's interesting."
"What about it is interesting?" I summed up the courage to ask. Ordinarily, I'd have let the topic die off or shifted the conversation in a different direction entirely, but I couldn't help myself.
"I think he likes you."
I think he likes you, like we were eight graders indulging in juicy gossip. There was a cheeky air in his voice, though. He knew what he was doing.
"I don't think so."
"He does. And you two have a past together, but something terrible happened and now you're acting like strangers with each other. Well, maybe not total strangers, since he knows what your bedroom looks like when he's only been back for a few weeks."
Dominic was not the person I would be confiding my thoughts and feelings about Finn in. It was clear as day that they weren't on good terms. I still wondered why.
"You're a keen observer," I said.
"And correct too. I'm glad I got to speak with you, Amanda. Hopefully the next time won't be over the phone. I hope you enjoy your evening."
"You too. Goodbye."
I set my phone on the table and got up to a stand. I went across the hall and stopped at Finn's door. My eyes fell on the passcode lock. I made two attempts and they both failed, so I rang the doorbell. The door came open immediately.
My body felt lighter. If he was water, then I was the most hydrophilic substance in existence.
His eyes were puffy. I was gutted by the thought of him crying in here alone. Mallard had insisted I left him alone for a while, but I should have been here sooner. I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around him. Instantly, his grip around me tightened. I felt him fist my dress, and his head nestle on mine dependently. The dress I had on was thin as hell, almost impractical to be seen in, and so I could feel every contour of his body. If there was a way to be physically closer to him than I already was, I'd take it.
"I'm sorry, Finn. I really am." My hand swept across his back. "Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?"
He withdrew and looked me in my eyes with his pleading ones. "Stay. For a little bit."
He had no idea how much I wanted to.
"Please," he added in a whisper, pulling at my heart. Before he could part his lips and beg anymore, I tugged his hand as I shut the door and moved into his apartment. I sat down and pulled him to do the same. His phone vibrated in his pocket. We both ignored it, but it rang again. I gave him a sidelong glance and saw his face go taut.
I held out my palm to him. He didn't miss a beat and pulled it out to place it in my hand. While it rang again, I read the name on the screen.
Fred Wilhem.
I had no idea who Fred was, but he was going to have to wait a little longer before he could speak to Finn. I switched the phone off and turned to look at him.
"Would you like something to eat or drink?"
He was staring up into the distance as he shook his head and slid down on the couch, like he wanted to get comfortable enough to nap here.
"You wanna go to sleep?" I asked. He shut his eyes and gave a small nod. I frowned. "It doesn't look comfortable here. Are you sure you don't want to go sleep in your bed instead?"
"You're not going to want to stay there, though."
He didn't want me away from him that he was willing to sacrifice his comfort. But I didn't think my presence was worth that much, and I wasn't keen on making the day any harder for him.
I got up and took his hand. "Let's go."
He opened his eyes to fix me with a questioning look. There was something hopeful in them and it made me want to do anything to see more of it. I pulled him to a stand and let him lead the way.
"Can I turn off the lights?" He asked when we got to his bedroom.
"Sure," I returned, eyeing the bed. I wondered if it would be too much if I laid on it with him. It used to be like that, the way we were, bodies and souls so connected that I wanted him around all the time. To be near him so desperately.
He caught me staring at it. "You can have it. I'll stay there," he pointed to a sofa at one end of the room.
I couldn't help my scoff. "Isn't the bed the reason why we're here in the first place? Come, lie."
I climbed in, pushing aside the covers and finding comfort in the bed. He remained stood and stared at me, and with the lights still on, his grief looked less consuming. It felt like I had all of his attention now— a distraction or reprieve, whichever— and I liked it. Very much.
He proceeded to turn off all the lights. The room was pitch black for a few beats, then I heard a beep and the curtains parted partially enough to let in a tiny but sufficient amount of light from the setting sun. He dropped the remote and his nimble fingers curled underneath the hem of his shirt, and in an instant he tugged it over his head.
Something about the sight of his lean but muscular body slightly obscured by the limited amount of light made my skin buzz. I made out the tattoos on his chest, the one of birds emerging from the left side of his ribcage and soaring higher up his chest. It reminded me of the one he inspired me to get, of two birds hovering side by side.
The tattoo seemed to burn it's position underneath my left breast. The night I got it was the day it all changed. The day that marked the genesis of what we were now. And it made me wonder if it would have made a difference if I had decided against getting it done that night. Would it have saved us from this fate, or only delay the inevitable?
Finn made his way to the other side of the bed and got in too. We kept a distance between each other that neither of us made an attempt to breach. I rolled to my side and curled, tucking my hands underneath me. He rolled over too. And we stared. His lips did not utter a word and his eyes gave nothing away. I noticed them begin to flutter close. When they refocused on me for a moment, I gave a small smile and he shut them again. This time, they remained so, and I continued to stare at him, a man who appeared to be at constant war finally allowed a moment of peace.
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