Dedicated to RewindTour2011 because her comment on the last chapter touched my heart. I am so, so flattered that this story means so much to you. This one's for you :)
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The following morning, for the second time in the past three days, I found myself woken by the sound of a pounding electronic drumbeat. The first occasion had been bearable; burying my head under the pillow had adequately muffled the sound to allow me to drift back off.
Today, however, was a different story. The artificial rhythm had been cranked up several notches on the stereo, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, sleep was fast becoming a wistful fantasy.
I suppose seven a.m. wasn’t totally unreasonable – not when you took into account the peculiar hours of the night Gram was often known to clatter around at – but I would’ve been a lot happier with a couple of extra hours in bed. Accepting the fact it was more likely I’d fly to the moon today, I yanked back the duvet and headed downstairs to investigate.
The noise increased exponentially in volume as I made my way down the stairs, layers of other obnoxious instruments combining with the drumbeat to make the overall effect significantly more awful. I was guided by the cacophony to the kitchen, where I found Gram. She was perched in her favourite corner spot, her easel angled towards the window, giving her a wide hilltop view of the Walden coastline. What was causing the racket, I discovered, was the ancient stereo on the dining table: through it pounded some kind of hardcore techno music that would’ve sounded more at home in some shifty underground nightclub.
“Uh, Gram?” Unsurprisingly, she didn’t look up; I could barely hear myself over the pulsating beat. “Gram?”
She glanced upward, looking slightly dazed, having been yanked from her artistic state of mind. “Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
Gram blinked, looking down through her thick glasses at the canvas balanced on her easel. “I’m painting,” she answered simply, going back to dabbing enthusiastically with her brush.
“But what about the,” I paused, searching for a better adjective and coming up short, “… music?”
“Oh, that.” A dismissive flick of her brush sent a splatter of miniscule blue droplets across the floor tiles. “Just a couple of old CDs I found. I like it, don’t you? I find it very… relaxing.”
There was absolutely nothing relaxing about the pounding bass assaulting my eardrums at that particular moment, but Gram did look kind of at peace, even humming absently to herself as she worked. She’d been at it non-stop for the last week or so, in a last minute hurry to get all her pieces finished in time for her opening exhibit at the local gallery. One of her friends had connections down at Walden Arts, and after putting in a good word for her, a representative had been down to the cottage for a look at Gram’s paintings and, as simple as that, she’d landed a spot for an entire collection.
“You know, I saw some of the drawings you keep in your bedroom,” she’d told me when she first announced the news. “They’re very good. I could put in a word for you at the gallery too, if you’re interested.”
But before she’d even finished her sentence, I was vehemently shaking my head. “No, thanks,” I said. “I mean, it’s nice of you and everything, but…”
My drawings were the equivalent of my diary; that was the problem. This was where Gram and I differed: while she liked to display her work on every wall, in plain sight of anybody who was interested, I never hung up anything my pencil had touched. My reasoning was this: if you wouldn’t paste the pages of your diary on the wall, why do the same with pictures? I’d feel too exposed if I did, like my darkest secrets had been scrawled on the walls for public viewing. There were some things that were just meant to be kept to yourself.
Gram’s array of artwork, on the other hand, was the backbone of her cottage. You could never predict where one was going to pop up next – since I’d moved in, recent additions had included a small, abstract watercolour to the left of my bedroom door, one that resembled a pile of leaves propped up on the telly, and a chalk sketch of a mug of hot tea in the downstairs loo. They were her pride and joy, and the place would be nothing more than an empty shell without them dotted around the place.
“I just…” My voice trailed off. It was much easier to justify it in my head; out loud, the words didn’t come so freely. “It’s embarrassing,” was what I settled for eventually, though even to my own ears it sounded weak.
Still, Gram hadn’t pursued the matter, instead focusing all her attention on her own collection, which was developing at an extreme rate. With a week until the opening exhibition at the gallery, it was all systems go, and she was working full-time on the finishing touches. The thing was, I didn’t have a clue what any of them looked like. Every time I approached, she’d usher me away, claiming she wanted it to be a surprise on the opening night.
It was looking like a big deal; she’d even invited Nora, Lenny and Summer to drive down to Walden. They, along with what seemed like the rest of the entire town, were all set to be packed into the gallery that night.
But I was proud of her. I could see how pleased she was in herself; the sparkle that appeared in her eye when she was painting something particularly good was second to none.
“So,” I said, raising my voice enough to be heard over the continuous techno din, “do I at least get to see this one? Surely just one painting won’t spoil the exhibit?”
She paused, her brush poised in midair, considering my proposition. “Well,” she said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “I suppose one look won’t hurt. This one’s almost finished, anyway.”
Spurred on by a boost of energy unusual for such an early hour, I bounded towards Gram’s easel, eager to see what she’d been pouring concentrated hard work into for days straight. My gaze fell upon the canvas, and as the sight of the picture met my eyes, I wasn’t disappointed.
It was a bright oil paint representation of what I recognised easily as the Walden seafront. I wasn’t sure what surprised me more: the fact that for once I could actually tell what Gram had painted, or that I was able to identify the location so quickly. The scene was painted with such intricate detail I wondered how on earth it was possible for each stroke of paint to capture Walden’s image so perfectly. Though I wouldn’t admit it, the first thing I’d noticed was the edge of the scene: the delicately painted cliff, which I knew hid a beautifully secret beach only a handful of people knew about.
The backdrop of the night I’d never forget.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed earnestly.
“Thanks, honey,” she said, but her eyes hadn’t left the painting. I noticed then that she had a second brush tucked behind her ear; its blue end was coming dangerously close to adding a splash of colour to her grey curls. “I’ve been working on this one for a while, but I think it’s worth it.”
“Definitely,” I agreed, still finding myself entranced by the image, although I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. “And I can’t wait to see the other pieces.”
She smiled. “Only a week to go!”
I was genuinely happy for her. Really. Just because the thought of my artwork going on display to the general public was enough to turn my stomach, it didn’t mean that was the case for everybody else.
“Well, now that I’m almost done with this…” She reached over, snatching up the remote control that was lying on the window sill and pointed it at the stereo. Almost immediately, the deafening – though I used the term loosely – song vanished from the air, leaving in its place a rather welcome and blissful quietness that fell across the room like a warm blanket.
Thank God, I praised internally, but I didn’t have the heart to say it out loud.
Instead, I stifled a yawn. “Well, I guess I should make myself breakfast.”
My intention had been to go for the first choice I laid eyes on, but once I’d started across the kitchen and pulled open the overhead cupboard door, all that stared back at me was an empty space. No boxes of cereal, muffins or even gross protein shakes in sight. So I moved across the counter, aiming for the bread bin, deciding toast was the next best option. Which, of course, led to further disappointment when I noticed that was empty too. The theme was recurring in the fridge, all bar half a packet of ham and a single mini Babybel, neither of which I could really salvage.
“Um, Gram?”
I turned around to look at her; she’d gone back to her easel, gazing out of the window and adding the tiniest splashes of colour to her painting wherever she saw fit. Upon hearing my voice, she glanced up a second time. “Hmm?”
“The kitchen,” I said, gesturing aimlessly toward my surroundings. “You know there’s meant to be food in here, right?”
For a moment she just stared blankly back at me, as if I’d started speaking a foreign language. Then, arriving abruptly back on the planet with an almost audible thud, realisation dawned. “Ah, yes…” She scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “I guess I’ve been concentrating so hard on making sure all of this is ready… well, it kind of slipped my mind to go shopping this week.”
“Oh.” My eyes darted back to the fridge once more, just to double check something hadn’t miraculously materialized there in the past ten seconds. “So there’s nothing to eat.”
“No, not really…” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I should really go shopping. I guess I could leave this and maybe pop down–”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. “Look, don’t worry about it. I’ll go for you and let you carry on with your painting.”
“Oh, honey, are you sure? I mean, I know you’ve probably got better things to do than go round running errands for me. There are only a few weeks left of summer, after all.”
“It’s fine,” I assured her with a smile. “I’ve got it. Just write me a list, okay?”
***
As I made my way down to the supermarket, the morning sun was rising over Walden, brightening the cloudless sky. There was something almost tangibly clearer about the day, which was reflected in the weather; it was almost as if the visit to the cemetery had lifted a huge weight from not only Daniel’s shoulders, but the rest of the town too.
The shop was quiet as I pushed through the door, only the lazy beat of a pop song pulsing through the overhead speakers to serve as a soundtrack. Grabbing a basket from the stand by the door, I offered the sole cashier a polite smile as I ducked past, heading straight for the cereal aisle.
I could’ve done with something more sizeable than the basket, I realised, as it started to fill up considerably after the first three items had been dumped inside. The stock level of Gram’s cupboard was so alarmingly low that not only did I wonder what on earth we’d been living on for the past three days, I realised I would’ve been better equipped with an entire trolley to accommodate the constituents of her shopping list.
As I rounded the corner into the next aisle, I was so completely lost in my thoughts that I only narrowly avoided a head-on collision with someone coming in the opposite direction. Thankfully, I managed to swerve at the last second, only brushing elbows with the stranger as we ducked past each other.
“Sorr—”
My apology was cut short, however, when I got a proper look at the person I’d almost slammed into; it didn’t take long to recognise the bright purple hair, which looked positively fluorescent under the glare of the supermarket lighting. “Erin?”
It was her, but it was a significantly more dishevelled version of the Erin I was used to seeing. With her hair dragged back into a messy ponytail, eyes less striking without their ring of liner, and her body swallowed whole by a baggy sweatshirt, she was a lot less put together than normal. It took a moment for my presence to even register with her, and she stared blankly back at me for a beat before realising exactly who I was.
“Oh, God.” Her voice was a groan as she ran a self-conscious hand through her hair. “We had to bump into each other here, didn’t we?”
“I…” For a moment I was confused, but realisation kicked in when my gaze wandered toward her basket, where two boxes of Tampax sat on top of her other items. Combine that with her sweatpants and half-hearted ponytail, the final piece of the puzzle wasn’t too difficult to figure out. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that one.”
“S’okay. Better you than Jay, I suppose. You’ll just have to deal with the fact that I look utterly stunning at this time of morning.”
“I’ll try not to be too overwhelmed.” The corners of my mouth were curling into a slight smile. “Believe me, I wouldn’t even be out at this time if Gram hadn’t woke me up with her crazy music on full blast. And then there’s the fact that she’s been so wrapped up working on her exhibition pieces that it slipped her mind to go shopping. Honestly, it was either this or starve.”
“Oh, yeah,” Erin said, leaning on the shelf beside her, which was stacked high with Digestive biscuits. “I heard about that thing. It’s next week, right? At the gallery.”
“Uh huh. She’s really excited about it. It’s just… everything’s a little crazy at the minute. Paintings everywhere.”
“Oh, I can imagine. I gathered it was kind of a big deal from the way people have been talking about it.”
“Apparently so. She’s even invited Nora and Lenny down to Walden to see it. They’re staying with us for a couple of days. I’m just keeping my fingers crossed that Summer’s crying might have progressively quieter since I last saw her, or I’m not going to get a wink of sleep.”
Erin nodded, grinning. “Oh, I’m definitely coming. I’m dying to see this cute little niece of yours.”
“Yeah, well, half of me’s kind of worried she’s going to have dreadlocks when I see her. You never know what to expect with Lenny.”
At this, she couldn’t refrain from giggling, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.”
An amused quietness settled between us as the image was left to fester in our minds. However, once the smile began to fade from Erin’s bare face, I could feel the silence twisting before us, beginning its transformation into quiet imminence. She didn’t even have to say anything; we both knew what was coming.
“So,” she said slowly, “yesterday, huh?”
I didn’t even blink; the thought sprung to the front of my mind straight away. “Um… yeah.”
“He finally worked up the courage to visit,” she said quietly. “You know, he’s been afraid of that ever since the funeral. The thought of visiting the grave… it terrified him. And he got over it. You must’ve had a lot to do with it.”
“Oh, I don’t…” I trailed off, not really knowing how to go about it. “I mean, he was already planning on going. I just agreed to come with him. It wasn’t really me at all.”
“Flo,” she deadpanned. “He was scared stiff of that place. He never would’ve been able to do it alone. He’s my twin brother – trust me, I know him better than he thinks. He might’ve got there, but he wouldn’t have made it all the way. You being there… you must’ve done an amazing job.”
“He’s… he’s okay now, right?” I queried tentatively.
The words had barely escaped me before she began nodding profusely. “Oh, yeah. He’s better than okay. In fact, he’s better than I’ve seen him in ages. Today… I don’t know. It’s almost like I was talking to a completely different person. He just seems so much more… at peace, you know? Like he finally got closure from yesterday. It seemed like it was exactly what he needed.”
“Oh.” My sigh was full of relief; I’d been worried maybe the visit might’ve made things worse, surfacing new emotions that risked sending Daniel’s progress on a downward spiral. “That’s good.”
“Yeah,” she breathed, managing a small smile. “It is.”
With the two of us lost in brief thought, a beat of silence passed between us, only broken when Erin looked up at me. “You know, you two are like some cheesy romance story,” she said, smirking. “Sappy, lovey-dovey, all that crap. I mean, I’d never dream of reading anything of the sort, but actually seeing you guys…”
I could feel my cheeks warming, but I don’t think she noticed. She was too busy pondering her thoughts, searching for the words to get across what was running through her mind. “All I can really say is… thank God you came here, Flo.” An almost pensive smile appeared on her face, translating more than her voice ever could. “Just… thank God.”
I couldn’t really come up with a suitable response to that, wondering what on earth would be a reasonable reply, but Erin cut in again before the silence could grow too awkward.
“Jesus, did you hear that too? I can’t believe how pathetic that just sounded,” she said, slapping a palm across her face. “I swear, it’s this crazy PMS. I have no idea what I’m talking about half the time. You know what? I’m going home, crawling into bed and eating Ben and Jerry’s for the rest of the day. There’s nothing else for it.”
I laughed then, grateful that the tone of conversation had twisted towards something infinitely less serious. “Sounds like a plan. Have fun.”
“Oh, definitely,” she said, shifting the weight of the basket hooked on her arm. “Once I get my hot water bottle, the party will really get started. Anyway, see you later.”
And as she vanished down the aisle, nothing more than a flash of purple hair and tracksuit bottoms, I found myself smiling gently after her, overcome by a sudden rush of affection for not only Erin, but the entire group of friends I’d been accepted into in Walden. They now made up a vast chunk of my life, and though it hadn’t been more than a few weeks, I was left wondering how on earth I’d managed without them.
I was one of them now.
And I didn’t ever want to let that go.
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This isn't the best chapter in the world, but I had to have something to set you up for the ending events, haha. And a fair few of you know what's coming in the next chapter so you'll probably forgive me ;)
Ugh. Wattpad still haven't fixed the read counter. This is frustrating.
Oh, and I officially recategorised this story as romance instead of humour, haha. I don't think after the previous chapter you could count this as funny at all. Anyway, I love you guys. See you next week! :)