The sun beats down on my back as I lay on the plush green grass. The fine strands of the grass pricks into my skin as I roll onto my side. My mind wonders to last night – the way his lips connected with mine, the warmth, the passion flowing between. I imagine Blake's lips against mine and then I shake my head.
"So, this is why I have a problem," I explain to my plant.
When it doesn't speak back, for obvious reasons, I continue my random ramblings.
"Pink or yellow flowers? Logan was never fussed about flowers, so I'm not sure which ones to pick." My eyes catch the pure white rose bush growing beside a wild lavender one.
"Maybe those two?"
Pushing myself off the ground, I trek across the soft surface and walk in the direction of the shed. I yank on the rusty door which creaks as the metal base drags against the concrete base. Once the door is open wide enough, I slip inside and use the light from outside to guide my way.
Hanging above an old wooden bench is a pair of garden scissors. I grab the cool metal sheers and shuffle outside of the shed and return to the overflowing garden bed.
I chop off a couple of white roses and lay them on the grass as I hack at the lavender bush. I get enough storks so a small bundle of flowers is created.
Once I've finished cutting the flowers I need, I toss the gardening scissors onto the wooden bench inside the shed, uncaring of what becomes of them. I collect the flowers from the grass and head inside.
When I go inside, I stop by the kitchen to offload the flowers on the kitchen bench. I find an elastic band deep inside the junk draw and then use it to bundles the flowers together.
I set them aside as I walk upstairs and hear Kyle groan. Opening the door, I poke my head inside Logan's old bedroom. I see Kyle hanging off the side of the bed, one hand clutching his forehead.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Mghsh, kill me, please," he grumbles.
"Well." I laugh at his predicament. I knew he would regret his actions last night.
Kyle's sporadic dancing comes to mind – most importantly – his attempt to climb onto the bar to shake his booty. With many drinks coursing through his system and the buzzing dance floor, getting Kyle out of the club was almost impossible.
I'm surprised he wanted to stay out for that long – heck, I've shocked myself with the fact I stayed out last too. Charlotte left early because she has work this morning, and I had to force Axel out when he started falling asleep.
"Why did you let me drunk this much?" asks Kyle.
"Drink," I correct. "If I recall, you said you were an adult and I couldn't stop you from drinking what you wanted."
"And I hate you." He glares from under his hand.
"Naw, I love you too, Kyle," I happily gush.
"Go away," he grumbles.
"I'm going out, so be you, and make yourself at home."
Before Kyle can protest, I close the door and return to my bedroom. I change out of my pyjamas and into a floral summery dress and a pair of slip on thongs.
On the way out, I grab the flowers along with my purse and car keys.
The drive to the cemetery isn't too long. Within no time, I arrive in the parking lot and park in one of the outside bays. The car creaks to a halt as I kill the engine and get out. With the flowers in hand, I walk through the old rusted iron gates.
I've never liked this place much. Whether it's because I fear death or because the crazy nightmare I have about a zombie apocalypse starts here, there's always been other places I'd rather be but here. However, somehow I find it comforting sitting beside his headstone.
On the walk there, my eyes scan over the other gravestones. Ivan comes to mind which makes my heart tighten.
Blake and I still have his ashes to set free somewhere – we haven't decided on a location yet. We'd compromised on having a plaque in the cemetery and then a cremation. It'll be nice to have alternative places to visit Ivan. It would be nice to sit down on a park bench and gaze at a beautiful view while stopping to ponder about Ivan. I'll never know if he likes it, but I'm sure it would be nice.
I haven't had the courage to see the plaque yet. After we separated, I left Blake with the task of managing it. This was something he wanted for Ivan, so it's his choice with what happens to it. I'll have to talk to him about spreading the ashes.
Once I arrive at Logan's headstone, I take a seat and place the bundle of flowers by the gravestone.
"Hi, Logan," I say.
The wind rustles around me which is comforting. I like to think it's a sign that Logan is listening to me.
"I hope you found Ivan and you're taking care of each other," I say.
I always thought Logan would be a great father/ uncle. As a typical boy, he always seemed disinterested by the notion of children and the poopy mess they come with. And then one day our parents went out with their friends and we had to babysit the couple's young children.
Logan shied away from helping, then the next minute, he beamed with enthusiasm. Logan tosses the children over his shoulder and chased them around the house. They were infatuated by his exuberant energy. I take comfort in the idea that Logan and Ivan are running around playing while they watch over us.
The grass crunches under the weight of someone's feet. As they loom closer, I look over my shoulder to see Blake seated beside me.
I go to get up but Blake grabs my hand and I sit back down. My gaze catches the stone before I look back at him.
"I miss him," I say.
"I miss you both," he replies.
"I miss you, too." I've learnt that life is a series of packing and unpacking. You pack away parts of yourself so that there's room for things to change, then later on, you unpack those parts and shuffle things around.
"We both lost Ivan, expect I lost you as well," Blake mumbles.
"We lost ourselves."
"Yes, we did," he agrees. "And I just want you back."
"You know I can't do that." I shake my head.
"I understand." He nods.
Blake tugs on my hand and pulls me so that his arms wrap around my middle and my back is pressed against his chest. Blake rests his head on my shoulder and his breath tickles my cheek. I rest against his body and gaze at the grass.
"It doesn't change the fact I still need you," he whispers. His lips brush against my earlobe which sends tingles through my system. "Please."
"I failed you. You shouldn't even be here," I explain.
"What were you going to do, Ava? You need to learn that everything isn't your fault. The world just happens the way it does."
"And what about you, Blake? That's just a part of the world too?" I ask. "You shouldn't be chasing after me."
"I'm still here, though," he says. "Because no matter how much you push me away, I'll keep waiting." Blake's arm squeezes around my body. I feel like a pile of mush in his arms.
"I'm seeing someone else," I comment. "Well, nothing serious."
The comment slips out and I hope that he runs just as much as he might stay.
"Okay," he replies.
"Now that should scare you away," I say.
"It terrifies me, but I'll keep waiting because I know you'll come back to me," he explains. "I hope that you have the adventurous fun you're seeking, then come back to me. Because if you do, it just confirms everything for me; we're meant to be together."
I sink into Blake's arms and enjoy the warmth and comfort they bring. I don't run away from the situation because Blake said he'd wait, and I'd like to see the truth in his words.