I dreamt about her almost every night. Arabella.
Each dream was different and yet the same. It was all her-laughing with her, tracing my fingers down her back, brushing her hair away from her face, passing a cigarette from my lips to hers. The dreams were all tinged with swirls of pink and red and orange. They felt less like dreams and more like an alternate reality. One where I was loved deeply and thoroughly. The dreams focused so much on her eyes, gazing at me from different flashes of what felt like memories. Then I'd wake up and what felt like memories suddenly just felt like nightmares. Everything felt like a nightmare when I was awake.
I didn't see Arabella again for the duration of my stay in the hospital. I knew that she tried to come see me because I heard her in the hallways having shouting matches with my father day after day. Every time I heard the arguments start, Jessie would get this strange look on her face like she might be sick. I realized then that she must be well aware of my relationship with Arabella. Guilt took over, eating me alive for being the type of person who flaunted a mistress in my fiancée's face. My fiancée who I had been with for nearly eleven years of my life, who I had known since childhood. I didn't know how I could be that type of person.
The guilt kept me quiet whenever I heard Arabella go toe-to-toe with my dad in a way that nobody had ever before. I didn't think anyone ever fought for me in such a way. I'd hear her voice and I'd feel this automatic primal urge inside of me to call out for her, to open the door and let her come inside. I never did, though. I knew I couldn't do that to Jessie, but it didn't make the ache for it shrink down any smaller.
Adjusting to life in the Highlands was difficult, to say the least. From the moment I arrived at my father's summer house, I felt as if my skin was on too tight. I felt mismatched and misplaced. I felt absolutely no sense of home when I looked around. I remembered the house, remembered my bedroom, but it all felt so far away from me. I didn't know what to do with myself the first few days except sleep nonstop and aimlessly wander around.
My dad gave me a new phone as mine was destroyed in the crash, but it had nothing in it. The only contacts programmed into it were my father and Jessie. When I connected it to the cloud to restore everything, I discovered that my cloud was empty. I had no messages to go through, no one to call or text, no photos to remind me of my life before. I blamed myself, thinking I must have not been syncing my phone with my computer to back it up. I had always been horrible with that.
My father wanted me to do nothing but lay in bed and rest to get better for my return to work. He told me the last few years I had started working for his company, side by side with Jessie. He told me that we'd be taking over after we got married and he looked so fucking proud of me as he said it. It settled nothing inside of me, but it didn't seem completely wrong. I knew that this was my legacy, this was always the plan. It made sense.
I tried to get as much rest and sleep as I could, but as my body's injuries healed, I grew more and more restless. My skin felt tight and itchy every time I was stuffed up in my room with nothing to do but sleep. I knew I was getting on my dad's nerves. I was asking him a million questions about the last few years when he was trying to work, but I couldn't stop.
Then one day, a couple of weeks after I got home, he woke up early in the morning, got dressed in a suit and declared that he couldn't work from home for one more second. I could tell that he was irritated by my constant presence, but I didn't understand it. He told me that Jessie was coming to stay with me while he worked. He must have been seeing me daily if I'd been living and working with him for the last couple of years.
To distract myself from questioning things further, I made pancakes as I waited for Jessie to arrive. The kitchen felt cold and unfamiliar to me. I kept automatically reaching into drawers, expecting to find a certain utensil only to find something completely different. I was growing increasingly frustrated and was grateful that Jessie didn't show up until after I had launched a spoon at the wall, after mistakenly grabbing it for the fifth time.
Jessie walked in as I was plating the pancakes, stacking them neatly for her. She was dressed as if she was going into the office and seemed to be in an annoyed mood. Her eyes flickered over my form and then landed on the food I had prepared. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Oh, I'm not really-" She stopped herself mid-sentence, clearing her throat as she forced a smile at me that I knew was fake, "Pancakes are new."
"Are they? They felt natural." I said, frowning slightly, "What do I usually make you for breakfast?"
She didn't speak for a moment as she put her bag down on the kitchen counter, "Um, iced coffee?"
"That's it?" I tilted my head. That didn't feel right.
"Sometimes a bagel?" She suggested, shrugging, "We just don't spend many mornings together since you-"
Jessie pressed her lips together, her eyes darting away from my face. I watched her think of something new to say to me, watched her scramble to find some other way to end that sentence. My eyebrows pulled together in the center, body straightening out.
"Since what?" I asked her, slowly pushing over the maple syrup and bowls of cut up fruit in her direction. She sat down gingerly, swallowing hard as she picked up her fork, keeping her eyes down on the plate before her.
"Jess?" I prompted her, my voice a little more stern.
"I'm not supposed to tell you." She said timidly, stabbing a strawberry and popping it in her mouth. She looked up at me as she chewed, her eyes searching mine, "But apparently you getting into that accident has given me some sort of brand new conscience, so I'm going to anyway."
I crossed my arms over my chest, studying her carefully. She took her time chewing that stupid strawberry, her eyes a little dark as she relaxed back in her chair and sighed heavily.
"You don't work with me." She said, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, "You never have. You've refused for years, actually. You stole money out of your trust-"
I straightened out, eyes going wide, "I what?"
"You stole money out of your trust and you opened a flower shop in the Wasteland. That's where you've been for the last two years, that's what you've been doing. You never worked for our dads." She explained, her voice tight with some emotion that I couldn't quite read.
"The Wasteland?" I asked her, my tone incredulous, "I despise the Wasteland, why would I ever..."
"It's all you could afford. I think you expected profits to be a bit better than they have been, and thought it would be worth it? I'm not sure. You don't tell me anything anymore, not that I blame you..." She trailed off, turning her gaze away from mine again, "Your dad changed after he lost your mom. He got meaner, angrier, harder to be around for you. You guys fought a lot and you started to spend more time with Buffy, who also lives in the Wasteland now. Then one day, your dad called me after work and asked me where you were. I had no idea, of course, but I had your location still on my phone and so... I tracked you, followed you into the Wasteland where I saw it. Your shop. Flower Boy, it's called. You did it all behind our backs. We had no idea until it was too late and he's... he's never forgiven you for it."
My heart squeezed in my chest, causing all of the air in my lungs to whoosh right out. Flower Boy. My mum's nickname for me. She called me that my entire life, from the time I was born until I lost her. She always wanted to be a florist and of course, there was always a part of me that wanted to make her dreams come true. I just couldn't believe that I actually did it, actually opened a shop for her. Pride swelled inside of me but it was closely followed by anger that my father lied to me.
"Take me there." I demanded, moving around the kitchen mindlessly, looking for keys or my wallet or something that I'd need in order to get in a car and leave right now. Both my mind and my heart were racing.
"Harry..." Jessie said, frowning when I turned to look at her.
"I want to go there. Now. I have to see it. Maybe it will... maybe my memories will come back if I see it." I said, ready to plead with her if that's what it took.
"It's gone, Harry." She said softly, frowning at me, "Your dad... he closed it while you were still in the hospital. Flower Boy is gone."
My body froze in place, keys in my hand that I now fisted my fingers around tightly. Hearing those words felt like getting shot in the chest. I blinked in shock, shaking my head slightly.
"Tell me you're fucking lying, Jess." I said to her, hearing the way my voice trembled with fear.
"I'm sorry." She murmured, still staring at me sadly, "I didn't know what to do when he told me he was shutting the shop down. I don't think there was anything I could have said to change his mind. Once he realized you lost all memory of the Wasteland and Flower Boy, he figured it was better for you to be here with us again instead of there alone."
I was seething with anger. My body was shaking with it to the point that it scared me. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this much rage and I didn't like the feeling. I wondered if I had been full of this rage for all these years. I wondered why I hadn't done anything to make it better.
"I wouldn't have been alone though, would I?" I said to her, my voice low.
I would have had Buffy. I would have had Arabella.
"I want to go there. Tell me where it is." I ordered her, feeling a little guilty at the tone I was using. I pushed it down, reminding myself that she was an accomplice to my father's actions.
Jessie stared at me blankly for a long moment, looking at me as if I were a complete stranger. She let out a heavy sigh and stood up from her chair, moving over to where she had dropped her bag earlier. She pulled out her phone and tapped through it for a quick moment, looking back up at me as my own phone vibrated in my pocket.
"The address." She said softly, tossing her phone onto the table with a loud clatter and then plopping back down into her chair.
She picked up the maple syrup and drizzled it over the pancakes I made her, keeping her eyes turned down toward her plate. She didn't look up at me when she spoke again.
"I'll be here eating pancakes, I guess." She said quietly.
Shame coursed through me at the look on her face. I knew that I should ignore the address in my phone and sit down next to her. I should eat pancakes with my fiancée and forget about my old life. I should forget the pull in my gut that I was certain would settle down once I was in the Wasteland. The shop was already gone, seeing it wouldn't accomplish anything.
And yet, it was a grave I had to visit.
I moved around to Jessie and leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head. She flinched slightly at the affection, but I couldn't make myself focus on it right now. Right now, I had to force myself behind the wheel of a car again and drive to the Wasteland to see the ruins of what once was my life.
I didn't turn back to look at her again as I grabbed my car keys off the hook they were dangling on and headed out to the garage. My stomach turned as I unlocked my sleek black BMW, realizing that the car totaled in the accident had to have been Arabella's. I wondered how strongly she would be opposed to me buying her a new one. My father certainly could afford it and she deserved it after what I put her through.
My palms went all sweaty as I slid into the driver's seat. Despite not remembering the details of the accident, my body locked up the second I got behind the wheel. I sat in the quiet of the car for a long moment, trying to calm the wild beating of my heart. My skin felt itchy all over as paranoid thoughts took over my brain, thoughts about how I'd get into another accident if I drove again.
The garage door opened. I looked up, watching Jessie step through it, her eyes finding mine through the windshield. She looked confused, likely because I was just sitting in my car instead of driving away. I realized then that I was breathing heavily, fogging the windows up from it. I opened the car door and pulled my body out quickly.
"I can't." I said to her, gasping for air as I pressed a hand against my chest. I shook my head, "I can't... drive."
She pulled the door shut behind her and walked over to me. I thought she would lead me back inside, sit me down on the couch and do her best to distract me from thoughts of going to the Wasteland. But she didn't. She took the keys out of my hand very gently and stepped around me to the driver's door of my car.
"Get in." She said softly, nodding her head toward the passenger's side.
I didn't argue. I got into the car and let her drive me. Neither of us said a single word the entire way there, sitting in tension that was so thick it could be cut with a knife. I watched out the window, trying to remember this drive, trying to remember the path that led to what had been my home the last two years. None of it rang any bells in my mind, none of it felt similar to me. I knew the Wasteland, of course, I grew up coming here with my friends, but those were the only memories I had of it. I could feel right in the pit of my stomach that this place was more than an adolescent memory to me. It was so much more and I couldn't remember any of it.
Jessie pulled into a parking lot at the end of the boardwalk and turned the car off, turning toward me when she did. She passed my keys over to me without a word and I noticed that I didn't feel anything when her fingers brushed mine. It just felt like skin on skin. No spark. Her eyes scanned over my face quickly and then she averted her gaze, gesturing toward the windshield.
"It's a few shops down. I'll wait here, if that's okay. I don't really..." She trailed off, shaking her head as she turned to look out of her window, "I just don't really like being here."
I felt like I should reach for her, touch her hand or try to give her some sort of comfort, but there was no instinct in me that pushed me to do so. I simply nodded at her and opened the door, climbing out on shaking legs. I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself to move forward and not look back at her like a lost puppy dog.
The boardwalk was fairly empty, which made sense as we worked our way into fall. Summer was the busiest time here and now that the season was over, everyone went back to their everyday lives. I should be getting back to my own everyday life as well, but I had no idea what that looked like anymore.
My eyes found the beach across from the boardwalk, watching the waves crash into the shore. There was a longing in my chest as I watched the water sparkle under the morning sun. That beach felt important to me. I never spent much time there as a teenager, so it had to be recent feelings that were now forgotten.
I thought about turning around and leaving. I thought about leaving all of this behind, letting myself forget about the Wasteland completely and moving on with my life. But there was that thread right in the center of my stomach, yanking me closer and closer to the shop that was once mine.
My stomach turned as I stepped up to it, tilting my head back to look over the building it was housed in. It was an old brick building that was painted white with black trim around the windows. I could see where the words 'Flower Boy' had been painted over and it made tears well up in my eyes.
I had to blink hard to force them back, but the hole inside of my chest continued to grow as I examined the shop. It was fucking empty. I felt like I could see the shop for what it used to be. I could picture the flowers blooming all over, I could see myself standing behind the counter and putting bouquets together. I could see what it used to be and now it was nothing.
My eyes were pulled to the vibrant neon pink sign of the shop next door and they nearly bulged out of my head when I saw sex toys displayed in the windows.
The building next to mine was identical in stature and so close to my shop that only inches separated the two. It was painted black where mine was painted white and a sign that boasted 'Good Vibrations' was glaringly bright against the dark brick. My cheeks flushed as I studied it, wondering how the fuck I could stand having my sentimental floral shop next to something so vulgar. And yet, I felt no ill feelings toward the shop as I stared at it. I felt the opposite. I felt... warmth.
I looked down at the keys in my hand, flipping through them to the ones I didn't recognize. One of them had to be for this front door. I hoped the landlord didn't change the locks as I stepped up to test my keys out.
My heart, which I didn't think could break any more, felt like it was cracking into a million pieces as I saw tiny, delicate looking pink flowers painted around the border of the front door.
I traced them, frowning as I did so. They looked fresh to me, newer than the paint on the rest of the building. I didn't much care for pink, so the color choice was surprising to me. I touched the painted petals lightly, letting myself get lost in them for a moment.
The second key I tried was the one that unlocked the door. I took a deep breath and pulled the door open, listening to the sound of a bell ringing when I did so. I shut my eyes, feeling that sound in my heart and knowing I've heard it before, but once again, there were no memories connected to it.
I stepped into the shop that once was mine, letting my eyes flicker around the room carefully. I didn't want to miss anything, hopeful that there were remnants left behind of what the shop used to be. But there was nothing left. There wasn't even garbage, there wasn't even dust. The shop was cleaned out and empty. I tried to imagine what it was before my father took it from me.
Tears stung my eyes and I averted my gaze toward the ground, blinking harshly to force them back. I didn't cry. My father raised me to be a man, to stay strong and keep my emotions at bay, to stay indifferent at all times. I didn't feel that way, though. I felt the opposite. I felt gentle and soft and full of emotion. I didn't know what transpired in the last two years to cause that change.
Breathing out a heavy sigh, I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling a headache start to form. I thought about moving around the store to look for things left behind, but I knew my father would never allow that to happen. I knew there would be nothing to find here. I started to move back toward the door, wishing I had listened to Jessie and never showed up here at all. And then I heard the sound of footsteps above me.
Craning my head back, my eyebrows pinched together in confusion at the sound, unaware that there was anything upstairs. I waited, listening for more sounds, hearing those same footsteps again. I lowered my head to look down at the keys in my hand. There was one more on my key ring that I didn't recognize.
My feet carried me without another thought. I didn't know where I was going, but my heart seemed to. The feeling led me right to a door with a staircase behind it and right up those stairs without a moment of hesitation, like I'd climbed them a thousand times before. I moved quietly, my heart pounding at the possibilities of what I'd find on the other side of the door.
I could hear soft music on the other side when I arrived at the top. It sparked something inside of my chest, something that felt like love and comfort. I tried to open the door, but it was locked, so I slid the unknown key into the lock and listened to it click as I turned it. The door slid open to the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen in my life.
Arabella stood there, her eyes wide, holding a bat in her hands like she was ready to swing it at my head and take it off. She looked wild and furious and terrified. Her cheeks were flushed with color, her chest was heaving up and down with harsh breaths.
She gasped when she saw it was me, dropping the bat to the ground quickly. She slapped a hand over her mouth in shock, staring up at me like she was looking at a ghost. And to her, I technically had become one.
I allowed myself the pleasure of looking over her slowly.
She still had pajamas on, which consisted of nothing but an oversized t-shirt and underwear. Her dark hair was plaited into two French braids but looked as if it had been in that style for at least a couple of days. There were dark circles under her eyes, indicating that she was sleeping as little as I was. Her big brown eyes looked wet as they took me in and she blinked hard to force that dampness back.
"Hi." I heard myself whisper.
"Hi." She lowered her hand from where it was covering her mouth, licking her lips quickly, "What are you... how..."
She cut herself off when a small gray creature that looked like a naked mole rat bounced into the room with a loud meow. I jerked back in surprise when it ran right for me, curling its thin, wrinkled body around my ankles.
"What the bloody hell is that thing?" I asked, stepping away from it so I could get a better look.
Arabella scrambled to pick him up in her arms, frowning at me as our eyes met once more. Every time I looked at her, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt like I couldn't move. I was locked into her gaze and unable to look anywhere else.
"He's our cat." She murmured, tearing her eyes away to look down at the cat in her arms, "Jagger."
"That's a cat?" I asked her, pointing to him, "W-we have a cat? We have a cat that looks like... a wrinkled gremlin?"
Her lips twitched slightly and I wished immediately that they would spread into a full smile. I wondered what I'd have to say to make her laugh. I would bet every worldly possession I owned that her laughter was the most enchanting sound. I craved the sound of it in a way that I'd never be able to explain.
"Technically, he's mine," she spoke softly, her eyes full of grief as they looked into mine, "but he became ours the second he found you."
My eyes flickered away from her face to look down at Jagger, seeing the way he was staring at me as he purred loudly. He watched me the same attentive and earnest way that Arabella did. It was clear that this girl and her cat both knew me well.
"Can I... can I hold him?" I asked, swallowing hard as I reached my hands out toward her. I wanted to hold them both, but I'd never say those words to her.
She nodded right away, passing him over to me. I touched her hands as I took him from her, but not by accident. I wanted to touch her. I've thought about the sharp, vibrant shock that I felt when she touched me in the hospital every single day since. I wanted to feel it again, so I brushed my fingers over hers as I took Jagger from her and I watched her lips part and her eyes glitter as I did so. I felt that same shock inside of me that I felt the first time and I wondered if it was always like this. If it was always this intense between us.
Jagger was warm and smooth to the touch. He began to nudge his little face right against my chin as soon as he was in my arms, his front paws kneading against my chest. I couldn't help but laugh at the feeling of it.
"I never had any pets growing up." I said to her, smiling down at the cat, "This is quite nice. He's soft."
"He's a demon for everyone but you." She said, giving me a small smile in return. Our eyes locked once more and I found myself stuck there again.
"Harry," she whispered, and the sound of my name on her lips was nearly enough to make me fall to my knees, "what are you doing here?"
It clicked for me then that I had essentially just broken into her flat. It didn't matter that I had a key, I didn't know her and I... I couldn't just show up here. My face heated up with embarrassment as I shook my head at her.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to break into your place." I forced the words out, but I made no moves to leave yet. I should leave. I should hand her the cat and turn toward the door. But my feet stayed where they were.
Arabella tilted her head, her eyes going all watery again. I didn't want to make her cry. I didn't ever want to make her cry.
"This isn't my place." Her voice broke as she whispered the words, "It's yours. This is your apartment."
Everything around me went a little hazy at that. I shook my head hard, thinking that might make the fog go away, but it didn't. My eyes moved quickly around the room. I was standing in a kitchen and nothing looked like it belonged to me and yet everything did. I slowly lowered Jagger to the ground, realizing how hard I was breathing as I took my time to step around the room.
I thought back to earlier, when I kept reaching for things in my father's kitchen and finding something else in its place. I shut my eyes as I stood before the stove and I thought of a utensil. I reached for it automatically, pulling open a drawer... and there it was. The exact spatula I pictured in my head. My lungs felt like they were being pinched as I shut my eyes once again. This time, I thought about bowls. I could picture deep blue bowls in my mind. I reached for a cabinet to my left and pulled it open... bowls. Blue ones.
I stumbled back from what I was doing, my eyes wild as I turned again to look around. There was a record playing in another room... one of my records playing. There were plants all over the kitchen and they were lush and green and thriving. The whole room smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. This flat, which I hadn't been to in nearly two months, should have been abandoned. It should have been emptied out with my shop below it.
And it wasn't. It was taken care of. It was warm and inviting and comforting. It felt familiar to me. It felt like home to me.
"I tried to save your shop, too. But he... your dad is..." Arabella didn't finish her sentence, "I tried really hard."
"How is this-" I cut myself off, shaking my head as I moved around the place slowly, taking it all in. She followed me.
"Your dad was going to throw everything out. We share a landlord and my father is a lawyer... a really good lawyer. He helped me work out a deal with the landlord so that your father couldn't touch the apartment. I'm sorry, I wish I could have... I wish I could have saved the shop as well, but I was too late. This was all I could manage and I can only keep it going for a little while-"
She stopped speaking as we both entered what I assumed was my bedroom. The bed was unmade. I knew that if I laid in it and pressed my face into my pillows, I would smell Arabella all over them.
"You've been staying here?" I whispered, turning to look at her once again.
She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at me, "I'm sorry. I usually don't, but I planned to wash your sheets today and um, they... they still smelled like you."
Her lips were wobbling as she spoke the shaky words and tears began to slip out of her eyes and down her plump cheeks. My fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and brush them away for her, but I kept my hands at my sides.
"I miss you so much and I... I texted and called you a hundred times but your phone was disconnected and... and your dad kept threatening to have me arrested when I showed up at his house. I don't know what to do here. I don't know what's right. Am I supposed to walk away and move on? Am I supposed to let you go instead of keeping your apartment like a fucking museum? I don't... I don't know what to do, Harry. I've just been mourning you with no grave to visit. I've been mourning you when you live ten minutes away from me." The words spilled out of her mouth as she cried and I felt my chest tighten with every word.
I wanted to comfort her but I didn't know how. I didn't know her and yet I did. My brain was working in overdrive to try and come up with memories with her, memories past Apartment X. There was nothing. All I knew was that I spent a very long and very intimate night with her and now she was crying in my bedroom that wasn't my bedroom, looking to me for guidance when I couldn't even guide myself.
I wanted to hold her. My arms ached to grasp onto her and pull her warm body into mine. My heart began to pound in response to the thought of it. I wanted to hold this girl to me and press my mouth to the top of her head and breathe in the scent of her. I wanted to soak up all of her pain and her sadness and her sorrow and carry it for her. I wanted to kiss away the tears on her cheeks and make my way down to her mouth. And I wanted to do all of those things while my fiancée was sitting in my car outside, waiting for me.
My entire body was trembling. My brain felt completely fried with emotions and feelings and thoughts that didn't make any sense. I had to get out of here. I had to leave.
"I'm sorry." I managed to gasp out as I backed away from her. I watched the heartbreak fall over her beautiful face as she registered that I was leaving, but she didn't move to follow.
"I'm so sorry." I said again before I turned from her, rushing to the front door of the apartment.
I was desperate to get away from all of this. Desperate to get away from this life that I couldn't let myself long for. It wasn't fair to Jessie and it certainly wasn't fair to Arabella.
She was mourning me. She was in mourning as if I were dead. I had to let her bury me. I had to let her move on, even if every bone in my body ached to turn around and go back to her.
Nearly tripping over my own two feet, I stumbled down the stairs as quickly as I could manage, rushing through the door and back outside onto the boardwalk. My chest was tight with anxiety, my breathing loud and uneven. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I began to spiral into a panic attack.
My hand pressed into my stomach automatically as my mind began to rattle off a list. I had no idea where the list came from or why my brain chose this exact moment to go down it, but I focused on the thoughts anyway. I let them center me. I let them calm me. I let them bring me down from the attack.
The view from the top of the Ferris wheel. Smoking cigarettes on balconies. Watching fireworks on rooftops. The smell of cinnamon sugar. The sound of the ocean waves crashing into the shore. Lush gardens full of flowers in every shade. The smell of peaches and honey. Pink shoes. Pink fingernails. Pink dresses. Pink painted flowers on my door. Pink skies.
Pink and pink and pink.
Our sweet, lost little baby. And sweet, angelic Arabella trying to hold onto him.
Hope you all are enjoying the pain bc I am really enjoying writing it!!! love love love you.