Chapter 3.
2.18AM Wednesday morning
I am awake and I can't get the image of Edward out of my head.
I replay my day in my mind. A hectic morning spent kicking Renee and Charlie out of their house and packing them off to start their sixteen-month holiday around the world—my graduation the only drawcard for their return. I spent most of the afternoon unpacking boxes and moving back in after spending most of the last few years living with mates and doing the usual uni student thing, living in dodgy accommodation with revolving room mates. I had two glasses of red wine, the good stuff pinched from mum and dad's cellar—hey, I was celebrating their departure! And I watched the sun go down over St Lucia, the suburb I now live in again.
Eventually my eyes were drawn to the yard next door, where I'd spent many a summer trying to get Edward to notice me, and then two summers trying to get him to behave decently when we were outside so that my parents wouldn't see us dry humping every time we were in the pool together.
And then I saw him, clear as day, standing by the pool, hands in his jeans' pockets, a simple grey V-neck T, scruff appearing on his face, looking dishevelled but much the same as he'd always looked. I had nearly waved to him, like I always had, but the glass fell out of my hand. I think that was what happened. By the time I glanced away to pay attention to the glass that had shattered its contents on the timber deck, he had disappeared.
But he was corporeal. He wasn't a figment of my imagination.
Was he?
Update 1 of 8 for today...