Hello beautiful people!
This is the sequel to the short, very fluffy, Jim and Ariel drabble called "Leaving" that I wrote forever ago. It's still on my page, so you can read it first if you want! :)
let me know what y'all think!
XOXO,
OceansAria :)
It had been a year since the day Jim and I were wed.
Every day for the three-hundred and sixty four days since he'd left, I woke up alone. And every morning, I forgot that he wasn't there and had to wake up to the reminder. I would reluctantly pull myself from between the sheets, dress, and eat a small breakfast. I would water the plants and twist my hair back into a low bun at the nape of my neck.
During the walk to work, I would wave to all the passersby and bid them good morn. Soon, the Benbow Inn would loom above me and that was where I was trapped until late that evening.
Sarah was always there for me. Father and my sisters had returned to the sea on Earth a month after the wedding. Sarah knew that I missed him just as much as she did; sometimes, more. Throughout my long days of waitressing at the Inn, I forgot briefly. I was surrounded by chatter and merriment, and when a problem came my way, it distracted me further.
But the moment I was home alone, I could feel the sorrow hitting me. I would usually head straight to bed. I would curl into myself, losing my mind to dreams much sweeter than reality.
On one of my few free Sundays, I stood in the small garden in the side yard. I'd found it not long after Jim had departed, and decided to bring it back to life. It had taken a while for me to pull up all of the weeds choking the earth, but over time, I had somehow coaxed tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, and rosemary among many other herbs to grow.
The hot August sun beat down on my shoulders; I ended up removing my light blue shawl. Thankfully, my wide-brimmed straw hat kept the sun off my face—or it would have already been redder than roses nearby. I hummed as the bees floated lazily on the breath of breeze. In the distance, the sound of the gate banging loosely echoed against the brickfront of our house.
I had been expecting Sarah any time, so I didn't budge from the spot where I knelt in the dirt. Sweat gathered on the back of my neck, my forehead, and pooled on my upper lip. Footsteps crunched over the bright green grass in my direction. Glancing up, I called out: "I'll be in a in just a second, Sarah!"
"No need."
The voice didn't belong to Sarah.
My eyes met the form of a man—a shape so familiar, my eyes and hands knew each and every angle and curve of his frame. His hair was longer and his skin was the color of tanned leather. He wore ragged clothes, clunky boots, and a leather thing around his neck with a golden band looped through it.
He was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.
"Jim?" A question, shakily asked. I rose to my feet slowly, smoothing out my skirts and wiping off the dirt from my fingers onto my already soiled apron.
My husband half-grinned. My heart beat too fast. I ran and jumped into his open arms, squealing as he spun me around like I was a child again. I ran my fingers through his hair, breathing in his intoxicating scent of musk and space air. He's back! I can't believe he's back!
When he set me back on my feet, his steel blue eyes took me in; he raised an eyebrow. "What are you wearing?" Jim's voice sounded almost accusatory through his laughter.
I knew that he had grown accustomed to my short-skirted, sleeveless dresses, bare feet, and long loose hair. But I had begun to dress like a married woman should. I wore full skirts and poofy three-quarter length sleeves. My corset wasn't as tight as I used wear it. My hair was tucked away under my hat. Dressing like a young unwed woman wasn't acceptable anymore. In Jim's eyes, I must've looked like an old maid.
I tucked my hands overtop my stomach. "What I always wear, Jim."
He shook his head. His hand tightened on the bag strap over his shoulder, smiling as he did so. My breath caught in my throat. "You look like a wife," he said softly.
I scrunched up my nose, laughing shortly. "I am a wife."
"No," he replied. I noticed new baby pink scars on his face and hands. Scars I wanted to kiss, to smooth over with my fingertips. "You're my wife. And my wife has never dressed like that before. Now, take off all of those ridiculous layers of skirts and come inside."
His words rang with a promise that made my skin tingle in anticipation. He held out his hand to me; I took it without protest. Together, we walked into the house and out of the burning heat. I removed my hat and hung it on its usual hook in the front hall. Before I could say another word—Jim grabbed me around the waist and pressed me against the wall.
"Jim!" I squealed. His eyes bored into mine for a long moment before his lips landed on my mouth. I had dreamed about this moment for months, but never imagined he would kiss me so hungrily or practically yank the pins from my hair. I felt his heart beating hard in his chest as it was against mine; I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him as close as humanely possible. I heard him whispering, "I missed you so much" and "I love you" over and over again in my ears. My pulse soared.
Suddenly, we were interrupted by a knock at the door. The second knock startled us both so much we jumped apart. Jim's shirt was mangled; My hair was a fiery mess blazing around the cream shoulders of my dress.
We looked like we had been having a little too much fun.
"Were you expecting someone?" he huffed.
I nodded. I headed for the door, heart still racing, cheeks burning with a blush.
"Good Lord, Ariel, I was getting worried—" Sarah Hawkins stomped in, carrying her usual basket full of bread. When her eyes landed on the young man standing directly behind her daughter-in-law, the perfectly browned bread hit the floor with a thud. "Jim?" Sarah's eyes misted over.
"Hey, Mom." Jim grinned as his mother hugged him just a little too tight. She sobbed into her only son's shoulder, clutching him to her chest.
"Mom, uh, you're kinda choking me to death," he chuckled hoarsely.
"Oh!" She stepped back, wiping at her eyes. "Oh, sweetheart. We've all missed you so much! Why were you away so long?"
Jim's softened eyes hardened to stone. His jaw tensed. He pushed his hands into his pockets. I detected that something wasn't sitting right with him.
"Let's not dwell on the past," he said gruffly, moving towards the kitchen. "I'm starving from the long trip back, and the smell of that bread isn't helping. What's for lunch?"
Sarah immediately brushed aside the fact that her son had turned from warm and inviting to completely cold-shouldered at the drop of a hat. But I hung back for just a moment, wondering what on earth could be plaguing my husband.
That evening, after Sarah had gone and the kitchen was cleaned, I decided to change and ready myself for bed a little earlier than usual.
The excitement of the day had exhausted me. I changed into my light frilly nightgown and washed my face in the bowl by the bed. Drying my face with the cloth, I stared back at the woman in the mirror. Standing in the doorway behind me was my husband—arms crossed and brow wrinkled. Closed off from the world, shut inside his own mind.
Before I could say a word, he disappeared down the dark hall. I listened for the door. He'd gone out the back.
Sighing, I dropped my head in defeat. The happiness and overflowing love that he had bestowed upon me earlier had gone. He had hardly spoke to me about anything besides food and other mundane matters all day.
Knowing that Jim had always liked his space and time to sort things out on his own, I climbed into bed. I snuggled deep under the covers, trying to push away my worries.
He'll come around soon. I just need to give him time.
But I never did feel the warmth of him beside me that night.
I awoke to the smell of something burning. The house is burning down! Was my first thought.
I jumped out of the bed, picked up the hem of my nightgown, and sprinted straight for the door. Smoke spilled from the kitchen. I had to put out the fire before the entire house was nothing but ashes.
I coughed as the smoke snaked into my lungs. Batting through it, I found Jim hastily opening windows and shooing at the smoke that was pouring out of the oven.
"What are you doing?!" I shouted.
"I was trying to make breakfast, but apparently I forgot how to work this damn thing!" he yelled in reply. I dashed forward to help him. I grabbed some rags and quickly grabbed the burnt bread from the oven's mouth and tossed it out the window.
Both of us breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the threat of losing our home died away.
I nodded towards the window. "Don't worry. The birds will feed on it. They'll be too fat to fly from all that bread." I joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
He shook his head; rubbing his hand down his face and the stubble growing on his jawline. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help." He leaned over the sink, blood-streaked eyes cast downwards. Whatever was weighing him down was apparent with the way his shoulders sunk.
Feeling bad for snapping at him, I tentatively stepped behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. I kissed his shoulder blade tenderly. It was so strange to be able to hold him again. "It's okay. You can just come down to the Inn with me and eat breakfast. My shift starts soon, and your mother would be thrilled to see you."
He wriggled out of my grasp, sending little shards of hurt that cut like glass into my heart. His eyes were cold again. "You don't have to work there anymore now that I'm back," he said gruffly.
They weren't words of solace. They sounded condescending, battering me like I was worth nothing now. I stepped back. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged. "I just thought, you know, since I'm back and I can work there in your place, that maybe you would like to do other, more womanly things. Like knitting or cleaning or something."
Anger boiled in my veins. I stammered for a moment, blinded by my enmity, then decided it wasn't worth it to blow up at him.
I turned and stomped back to our bedroom to ready myself for the day ahead. Maybe that would send him enough of a message. "If you're coming with me, you better shave and get changed," I called out a little too-cheerfully. "The customers don't like hobos."
The tension between us was as apparent as the loose, messy stitching on Jim's trousers from where he had ripped them on the rickety gate.
On the days when we walked into town together before our wedding, he used to always hold my hand and take my basket like a true gentleman. But today, it was like we were strangers to each other. It was hard to believe that just yesterday afternoon, the same man refusing to look at me was kissing me like a maniac.
I told him to find a seat at an empty table as I hung up my hat and tied an apron around my waist. I tucked my notepad and pencil into my apron pocket, greeted the cook, and headed out into the throng. Just as every morning before, I made my rounds as quick as I could. I served food and drinks. I smiled and chatted with the regulars. And when I finally had a minute, I brought a steaming cup of coffee and a plate full of eggs and bacon to my husband.
"Thanks," he mumbled. He didn't even glance at me.
What could I be doing wrong?
I didn't even get to stop and speak properly with Sarah until after noon, when the rush had gone and we were left to gather up the dirty plates. Jim joined us, helping us with the heavier stuff. Sarah beamed in his direction the entire time. "It's so good to have you back, sweetie," she kept saying.
"Good to be back, Mom," he said begrudgingly. He dropped the rest of the dishes into the large sink for me, and I smiled at him gratefully. He turned away as if he hadn't seen it. "If you two are all good here, I have some errands to run around town."
"Errands?" Sarah repeated, her expression curious. Jim's business usually revolved around the docks, not the town.
Jim scratched at the shaved part of his head. "Yeah. Just a few little stupid things." He kissed his mother's cheek as he passed by. "I'll see you this evening, Ariel," he called over his shoulder. I smiled and waved in response, but as the sound of the front door opening and closing echoed in my ears, I could feel my heart dropping to my toes.
What in the world happened during the year he was gone to make him so shut off from me? I wondered as I scrubbed away at the pots and pans. I'd have to do something to get him to talk.
Because I certainly couldn't live like this day in and day out for the rest of my life.
He didn't come home until I was sitting in bed, reading yet another novel that I had collected from the local book shop. Whenever I had spare time, I liked to read about the history of the humans surrounding me, being that I hadn't been one for long.
But as I sat there, I re-read the same paragraph over and over and still didn't absorb it.
It was because I was completely and utterly furious with him.
Sarah had let me off earlier so that I could come home and fix Jim a special supper for his homecoming. I had cooked his favorite meal—purp pudding and fried salted cod. For three hours, I had sat at the kitchen table, waiting for him.
And for three hours, I stared out the window above the sink, hoping that I would see his silhouette coming through the gate any moment.
Sitting there in bed, I finally, finally, heard the footsteps I'd been hoping for. I scrambled to blow out the candle at my bedside, toss the book away, and get settled under the covers. I didn't want him to think I was suspicious, though I was. I made sure the quilt looked rumpled like I had been sleeping for a while. Which I should have been sleeping for a while since it was well after midnight.
The footsteps came closer. He was in the room with me now. I heard the whisper of cloth over skin-he had taken off his shirt. Next, his trousers dropped to the floor. All of these small sounds should have been familiar to my ears; but they weren't. Not even a little bit.
Suddenly, I felt fingertips tickling my bare arm. His weight made the bed dip behind me. A shiver rippled down my spine when I felt his lips press into the side of my neck. His breath was warm and heady against my skin. He pulled me back against his chest, nuzzling his nose into my hair.
"J-Jim . . ." I stammered, wildly confused as he continued to press kisses behind my ear. He had to stop if I was going to confront him. "Jim, I can't think straight when you're doing that . . ."
"Then don't think," he slurred. "Just stay right here with me."
The smell of beer hit me like a ton of bricks. I cringed away from him. Only once in the entire time Jim and I had been together, had he ever been even slightly tipsy. He wasn't a lightweight—so he had to have drank a lot to be as wasted as he was now.
Turning over, I shoved roughly against his broad, bare chest until he finally backed off.
"Ok, ok," he grunted irritably. "Fine. I'll stop."
"Where. Were. You." I growled, so pissed I couldn't see straight in the dim moonlight cast about our bedroom. "You were supposed to come home for supper! You were supposed to be back hours ago!"
"I had some errands to run. I told you that—"
I beat at his chest again with my fists. "Don't you dare lie to me, James Hawkins!"
"Whoa, whoa! Hey, stop it! I'm not lying!" he grabbed me by the wrists, stopping my frenzy of punches and slaps. "What the hell is all this about?" He hissed. The booze on his breath made me nauseous.
The tears flooded my eyes before I could say anything else. I stuttered lamely. His eyes widened, but I could still see the effect the liquor had on him in every etch in his handsome face. Anything I said now would be lost to him later. This was not the man I loved; the man I had married. This was just a ghost, a whisper, a shadow of the man I had knew.
I kicked my way out of his strong grip, rolled out of bed, and grabbed a spare quilt and my pillow.
"Ariel." He clammered after to me, dragging the covers off the bed with him. "Ariel, stop, please—"
Looking at him made my heart squeeze violently in my chest. He was like a lost puppy-standing there with his eyes big and round, wearing nothing but his boxers, his hair matted on one side.
But I held back from giving in just yet.
I slammed the door in his face when he tried to follow me. Resting back against it, I bit my lip to keep from screaming. For the rest of the night, I stared at the ceiling as I lie awake in our little parlor and wondered how my life had taken such a strange turn.
Morning came, as it always did-with the crow of a rooster and the smell of dew on the grass burning away in the August sun.
I hadn't slept a wink. It took every ounce of determination for me to get off the settee and go into the kitchen to start breakfast. On Tuesdays, I didn't have to go in until the afternoon. I made a fresh pot of coffee to start. If I was going to have to face him again, I'd need a little energy.
I was almost finished frying the bacon when my husband appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed, red-faced, and completely hungover. He leaned against the doorframe miserably, moaning low in his throat. Still, he was too enticing for his own good.
"Is that coffee I smell?" He groaned.
I nodded. "Bacon and eggs, too."
He moaned again as he shuffled over to the table, plopping down in his usual seat. Doubling over on himself, he rested his cheek on the tabletop and closed his eyes. "No food. Just coffee." When he heard no reply from me, he added, "Please."
I set down the cup of coffee by his hand and returned to the stove. The smell of hot food awakened an appetite inside of me that I hadn't had in a while. Sitting down across from Jim, I dug into my full plate.
It was weird to be doing something that should-and did-come so natural to me: spend the morning with my husband. The only morning we'd had as husband and wife before he left, I didn't get to make him breakfast. I didn't get to brew his coffee. Everything-sharing my bed again, cooking for more than one, having to look after someone else-was all too strange. It didn't settle well within me. I didn't even feel like a real wife.
Jim raised his head slightly. He glared at my plate. "Ugh," he said. "That food . . . Smell . . .making me nauseous."
"Well, that's what you getting for going out and getting wasted over nothing," I hissed before I could stop myself. Averting my eyes immediately, I realized that I hadn't helped the situation. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The look on his face said it all. I'd gone too far.
But I about dropped my fork when he reached out and covered my hand with his. "I'm sorry for everything I said and did last night," Jim said gently. "Though I don't remember most of it."
I rolled my eyes. "No, I suppose you don't." Sighing I set down my fork and wiped my mouth. A sip of my coffee reimbursed my confidence. "Jim . . . What's going on with you? You've never been so cold or shut-off to me before. I mean, you have, but not like that. You've never gone out and gotten drunk to solve your problems." Swallowing hard, I continued. "I hate to ask you this . . . But did you have an affair, while you were gone?"
Jim's tender expression turned to stone. He extracted his hand. "Dammit, Ariel, do you think of me as some kind of blubbering idiot?" His rash anger chilled me to the very marrow of my bones.
"I-I-"
"We haven't even been married a year! Why would I ever cheat on you?" He growled.
I shook uncontrollably. "It has been a year," I whispered.
"What did you say?"
"I said, it has been a year." I picked at the checked tablecloth. "Yesterday was our anniversary." A knot formed in my throat, making it hard for me to talk without bursting into tears again.
His brilliant gray-blue eyes widened. "It was?" It was barely a murmur.
I nodded.
"Oh, God. Ariel, I'm so sorry," his tone was genuine and truthfully regretful. "I completely forgot."
I wiped at my nose. I lifted my head and said, "I forgive you for forgetting that. But . . . No, I don't think you're an idiot, Jim. You're the brightest man I've ever known." I smiled, but I knew it looked forced. "So, if it wasn't another woman . . . Then what happened?"
As quick as he had opened himself up, he shut me out again. His entire body seemed to go into defensive mode. He gritted his teeth, his eyes now focused on the window behind me.
"Jim," I reached out to take his hands in mine, but he yanked away from my grasp.
"Stop it," he said, dangerously low. "I can handle it myself."
Finally, I lost my patience. "What's your damn problem?!" I cried. I felt my ears redden, being that I hardly ever cursed and was ashamed with myself. "One minute, you act like you want to tell me, the next you totally shut down and won't even look at me! What have I done to make you distrust me so much? Why won't you just tell me what happened?"
I swear that the air froze around us. He still wouldn't look me in the eye. Distantly, I could feel my chest heaving and my pulse pounding, like I was having an out-of-body experience (like the ones I had read about).
As he gazed down into the depthless pit of his coffee, he muttered, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."
I stared at him openly, begging him with my thoughts to look at me and spill all. "I'll be here when your ready, then."
Feeling entirely too frustrated and defeated, I gathered up my half-full plate, having lost the appetite I had just gained. Instead of washing the dishes right away as I always did, I set them by the sink. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edges of the wooden counter.
"Ariel . . ."
"I'm going for a walk," I said curtly. And without even changing out of my nightgown, I tugged on my boots and headed for the docks.
The docks had always been our special place. We picnicked there, we sat and talked for hours there, our first kiss after I became human was there. Every little memory like this stung now. I felt as if Jim didn't trust me anymore. I felt as if he didn't even want me to care for him.
I curled my knees up against my chest under my nightgown. Even though the material was thin, it was almost too much for the growing heat as the morning progressed on. Workers milled about-none of them paid any attention to me, which I was thankful of.
Not long before noon, I decided to head back home to get ready for my shift. I wouldn't leave Sarah hanging, even if I was mad with her son.
I went into the bedroom, but he wasn't there. The house was empty. I picked up my hairbrush to begin to comb out the tangles, and there I found a small note by my washing bowl.
Gone to town. See you later. Jim
It was the supper rush hour, and we were too short-handed to handle it all. Sarah and I ran about, taking orders and yelling them out to the cook as quick as we could. We cleaned off dirty tables for new customers, served food, and refilled drinks. There was so much noise and so many people I felt as I were going to choke to death from confinement. I had been a mermaid, and mermaids didn't do well in tight spaces.
"Do you have any idea where Jim could be?" Sarah shouted once when were passing each other in the kitchen, both trays full of food. "He should be here, helping us. He would usually be here."
I shrugged nonchalantly. "He said he wanted to go into town again. Wouldn't tell me a thing."
Sarah frowned; her wrinkles threatened to show. Instead of saying anything else, she shook herself and headed back out to the front. I followed right behind.
All night long, it bugged me how Jim had signed his note. He used to always sign them Love, Jim. He used to always write Be back soon, sweetheart. What had suddenly changed in him to make him stop being loving towards me? The first few minutes after he had returned, he had acted just fine, totally and completely sound of mind and heart. But the minute his mother had asked him what had taken so long for him to return from his supposedly six-month long journey . . . Something in him had snapped.
I worried the skin right off the inner edge of my bottom lip from chewing it too much. As the evening drew on, things didn't die down. A few ships had arrived at the docks and many of its passengers were looking for board and hot food. Somewhere in between all the madness, Jim stumbled into the Inn. His eyes found me almost immediately; they locked onto me like I was his prey. His strides were determined and long.
I turned my face the other way as I cleared off a table. His shadow cut into the little light I had from the candles. "Ariel, we need to talk."
I straightened slightly, setting two dirtied mugs on my tray. "Now is not the time, Jim. We're really busy."
"I can see that," he said brusquely. "But this is really important."
I glanced at him. He looked just mere inches from exploding. He was going to tell me.
Looking over his shoulder, I met my mother-in-law's gaze. Sarah nodded in consent, but pointed to an imaginary watch on her wrist, indicating for me not to take too long.
I followed my husband out the back, stopping in front of him in the shadow of the dumpsters. He smelled like he had been in his workshop all day, not a hint of liquor this time. I breathed in the familiar scent, thinking of all those days when he would come see me after those long work days, and we would talk and kiss and do things that unmarried kids shouldn't do. But we never went too far-he had said he wanted to protect my virtue. Always the gentleman.
"Ariel." His voice startled me out of my flashback.
I pursed my lips. "Go ahead. Tell me."
Jim shifted from foot to foot nervously. He checked behind him for a crate before he sat and dropped his head into his hands, hiding his face from view. "You know my friend Silver?" He whispered through his fingers.
I nodded slowly, a dreadful feeling taking root in my core. "The man that was with your during your first journey, to Treasure Planet?"
"Yeah. He . . . uh . . . On the journey . .." Jim gulped. His voice trembled. "He died."
Every ounce of anger within me was over flooded with concern for my husband. I dropped to my knees if front of him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled him close. "Oh, Jim," I felt tears coming to my own eyes too as Jim quietly sobbed into my shoulder. I'd only seen him cry once, and even then, it had frightened me. Jim was the rock between the two if us; I was the twig, easy to break.
"I know you loved him like your own father," I said, stroking up and down his spine. "And I know that he loved you, too, Jim." He buried his face in my neck, his wet face soaking my collar. "It's going to be okay. Shh, it's alright." I rocked him back and forth slowly, trying to comfort him in any way possible.
"But that's not the only thing that happened," he said into the crook of my neck.
I ran my fingers over his hair. "What else?"
He sat back on the crate, letting go of my waist to use his shirttail to clean his face if the tears. I rubbed my thumbs under his eyes to catch the strays. When his face was finally dry, he leaned forward once more and took my face into his hands. I froze into place, anxiously awaiting the news.
"The man that killed Silver," Jim's voice was strong now, not a tremble to be heard. "I took something of his. Something that I shouldn't have stolen, but I did. And he's coming to get it." His thumbs stroked my cheeks. "He vowed to kill everyone I love. He said that no matter if he found what I stole or not, he would destroy everything around me."
"My God, Jim, what did you take from this wretched man?"
Jim's eyes were steel. "His name is Thomas Wainwright Hawkins, better known as Blackheart Hawkins. I stole his heart." He looked out into the darkness, anger taking over his handsome features once more. "He's my father."