Chapter One- A Scarce Meeting
It took both of them years- some more than others- but it finally happened to both of them.
For Elizabeth, the death of her husband came as no surprise. Stage four Glioblastoma Multiform is a vindictive bastard, and all it took was thirteen months to reduce her husband from an outdoor loving, bodybuilding man to a shell of his former self. She couldn't bear to watch it, so she busied herself with other productive things such as sewing and Tuesday yoga. By the time his funeral took place, she was a sobbing mess. But she had prepared and meditated for it, and there was nothing that she couldn't get through.
For Arrow, the death of his Sara came as a shock- a shock that was so big it turned his world upside down. He had seen the knife move toward her in slow motion before it buried itself in her throat, but he couldn't move fast enough to stop it. If he had reached out his hand a bit she would have been there for the birth of their granddaughter, the marriage to the girl their son had loved at first sight. But she wasn't, and Arrow had to live with it.
It was Mika's suggestion that he attend these stupid group therapy sessions. He didn't want that, but after his last mental breakdown/PTSD episode he somewhat agreed with him. Maybe it was time that he moved on from Sarah.
No. Moving on wasn't the right term- what was the right term? He couldn't remember. Learning to live with the fact that he was responsible for her death? He already knew that, so there was no use in beating a dead horse.
"Let's get started and introduce ourselves," the hosting woman said. "I see that we've got a few new faces today, which is always good." She wore a brown sundress and her hair was gray brown. Arrow could sense that she didn't want to be in that room any more than he did. She ran it, though, so she couldn't complain much.
"I'll start," the woman said, "My name is Harriet, and my husband died thirteen years ago in a car accident. It has been hard to move on, but I have."
"False," Arrow heard himself say.
"Excuse me?" she asked. She seemed more surprised than angry.
"You can't ever move on," he said, "you can get to the point where the pain is numb enough to where you can function, but you don't ever move on. That's a false notion."
The woman with blonde hair and brown eyes sitting across from him took a sip of her iced coffee with an interested expression. She had never heard anything like this, and she wanted to hear more. Who was this bald man with the arrow tattoos? Was he an ex gang member? What if he smuggled cocaine across the border for rich moguls? She wanted- nay, needed- to know.
"What is your name?" Harriet asked. Her jaw was clenched and there was a false smile across her lips.
"Arrow," he said simply. Harriet chuckled.
"Arrow," she repeated in a belittling tone, "this is a support group for people who have lost their spouses, not a support group for controversial opinions. These people-" she gestured broadly within the circle, "Are in pain. We respect people in pain."
The blonde woman noted his fists clench gently, and then unclench.
"My wife was murdered in front of my eyes and I couldn't do a damn thing about it," he said, "and I do respect people in pain. Are we not allowed to speak our minds when we feel that something is contradictory?" Harriet chewed her cheek and said nothing. She was fully aware that all eyes were boring into her, and she didn't like it one bit.
"Get out." Arrow chuckled and stood up, and all 6'2 of him trembled in rage.
In the past, Paris had said that Arrow was a Pathos thinker, unlike his partners Mika (Logos) and Vancha (Ethos). Arrow was always an emotional and very much spur of the moment thinker. In the present, Arrow was enraged. No one- and he meant no one- brushed him off and humiliated him by telling him to leave. Perhaps it was his pride of being a vampire prince, but something told him that he needed to retaliate against the grievous insult done on him.
"Should any of you wish to speak your mind without the fear of retaliation," he said calmly, "you are more than welcome to join me in the coffee shop Grande Coulee Dam by the yoga studio at 8 PM tonight." Harriet clenched her teeth together.
"Get. Out." She smiled tightly. "Or I will call security."
The blonde woman applied chapstick to her lips and watched intently as Arrow exited the room.
"Now," Harriet said, "should any of you feel the same way, now is your time to exit." Several people looked at the door and hesitantly squirmed in their chairs, but none dared to get up.
"Let us begin," she said calmly.
"You were supposed to go to therapy!" Mika exploded. "Not to create your own group out of rage!"
Arrow pinched the bridge of his nose. He always did that when he was stressed or full of regret.
"I know," he said, "and I'm sorry." Mika scoffed.
"You made your bed and you can lie in it," he said, "because now you've got a group of weepy widows coming to the coffee shop tonight. Or do you know how many are coming? Good Gods, Arrow- you need to think these things through."Arrow waved his hand to cut him off.
"Look," he said, "no one is going to show up. It will be fine. I'll come home around 9:00 and go to bed around 1:00 like I always do-"
"-because your diet consists of coffee and red meats-" Mika interjected. Arrow ignored him.
"-and no one will ever be the wiser." Mika sighed.
"Okay. I'll have some dinner set aside for you. I can't guarantee if there will be any sourdough bread left over." Arrow smiled wryly.
"If there isn't any sourdough bread left I will personally execute you, Mika Ver Leth." Mika laughed and threw the hand towel at him.
"Only if you can catch me, old man."
Elizabeth put on her scrubs and sighed. As a pediatric surgeon, she had to learn how to grieve long before her husband died. Granted, it was still hard when he died, but she was able to use all of the coping mechanisms her career had taught her.
The one thing she hadn't counted on was having to raise her daughter without a father. Elizabeth's own father doted on Cassiopeia, but it just wasn't the same.
Cass's own father loved her dearly; in fact, he loved her more than life itself. He would take her hiking, swimming, fishing, and she loved every second of it. She was two when he passed, and now she was celebrating her first birthday without him.
Elizabeth couldn't believe that it had been a year since he passed. To her it seemed like an eternity and a half, and everyone would ask about how she was holding up. It was always the same answer- horribly and I want him back- and they would never know how to reply.
"Cassiopeia," Elizabeth whispered softly. Her daughter was napping on the cat-again- and Mew Mew was taking it just like he always did.
Her husband liked to joke that Mew Mew was Cassiopeia's guardian, and it was the complete truth. Wherever Cass went, Mew Mew trailed behind. The first day of preschool was a nightmare for the both of them, but after two months they developed a sort of routine. Cass would leave for preschool, Mew Mew would nap and mope until she came home, and Cass would nap on Mew Mew until she was ready to play.
"Too tired," Cassiopeia whispered back. Elizabeth smiled. She truly was Jacob's daughter.
"It's time for you to go to grandpa's house," she said, "mommy has to be to work a little bit early today." Cassiopeia nodded sleepily and grasped her hand around Mew Mew's tail. Mew Mew, for some reason, did not retaliate.
"Can I take Mew?" she asked. ELizabeth sighed and relented.
"Of course, sweetheart. Go grab your bag and get in the car. I'll get his dishes and kennel."
Cassiopeia nodded and sat up. She let go of his tail before walking toward her bedroom sleepily.
"8 PM at the coffee shop by the yoga studio," Elizabeth repeated under her breath.
Should she go? She didn't even know the man. He looked intimidating. Was his wife murdered because of gang affiliations? If so, did he regret it?
"Mommy!" Cass hollered. "Can I bring Peloquin?" Elizabeth bit her tongue.
"No, you cannot bring your imaginary friend with us."
"Mommy, he's not imaginary! He's purple!" She heard her daughter's footsteps coming down the hallway and she smiled softly.
If only Jacob could see her now.
"In the car, please," Elizabeth said. Cassiopeia held her hand in the air, and her mother melted on the spot.
With all of her purses, bags, and coffee in one hand, she held her daughter's in the other. No matter how old she got, she would always hold her daughter's hand.
"Let's go see grandpa," Elizabeth said. Cass turned her head around.
"Mew?" she asked. Elizabeth sighed and held the keys tighter in her hand. The hairs on her neck had bristled a few seconds earlier, almost as if someone had been watching her. She brought the feeling up to the landlord, who in turn installed a security camera on their porch. They hadn't caught anything, but the feeling still remained.
"I'll get him once you're in the car," she said. Cassiopeia nodded and opened the door before climbing into her car seat.
Elizabeth doubled back to the front door, opened it, and swooped up the old cat before he could utter a sound.
"You're lucky I love you," she said before placing his empty dishes into the carrier. She contemplated putting him in there with them, but she knew her daughter would have taken him out within the first five minutes.
It took her fifteen minutes to drive to her father's house, and another fifteen to drop her daughter and cat off. Her father loved to talk her ear off, and it took her hugging him quickly and telling him goodbye before he stopped talking.
It was 8:30 by the time she got to the coffee shop.
The door opened with a comforting jingle, and that's when she saw him casually sitting on one of the sofas drinking a 32 ounce iced coffee. His unusually large hands held a copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet, and a concentrated expression played across his face.
Elizabeth contemplated interrupting him, but she decided against it. He looked concentrated and absorbed, and she hated it whenever anyone interrupted her reading time.
"What can I get for you?" the barista asked. Elizabeth's train of thought broke and she ordered a 32 ounce French Kiss with four shots.
"Long night, huh?" the barista chuckled. Elizabeth smiled and pulled out her punch card.
"You know it, Susan," she replied as she slid her punch card and a $5 bill across the counter.
"What's next for the surgeon?" Susan asked as she got the shots going.
"I have three consultations, two possible surgeries, and I'm on call for 24 hours after tomorrow," she said. Susan made a face.
"Geez,"she said, "that's a lot. How's my little buddy doing?" She mixed the chocolate sauce, French Vanilla syrup, and Hazelnut syrup before pouring the milk. She mixed it deftly, and it was in front of Elizabeth before she could blink.
"Still very attached to Mew Mew," Elizabeth joked as Susan grabbed her punch card and money.
"That poor cat," Susan said as she punched the card, "you'd think that at his age he'd just want to be left alone. He's what-7?"
"8," Elizabeth replied as she grabbed the coffee.
"I'm surprised he's still breathing," Susan joked as she handed the punch card back.
"Me too," Elizabeth said, "especially since she squeezes him all the time." Elizabeth turned to walk out the door and to the hospital. She had a busy day-night-ahead of her.
"Have a good shift, Elizabeth," Susan called out to her.
Elizabeth turned around to wish her the same sentiment, and to her surprise, she instead locked eyes with the Arrow man.
Arrow didn't know what propelled him to look up. Call it DesTiny if you will, or fate perhaps. He also didn't know why they locked eyes- but they did. And for some reason she reminded him of Sarah.
For a split second he was back in the little cottage in the middle of Wales, and she was in his arms dancing in the kitchen to a soundless tune. Perhaps it was their heartbeats.
Maybe it was their eyes. Sarah had the same look in her eyes- the determination, fervor, and empathy- but this woman's eyes were brown and Sarah's were green.
Arrow quickly averted his eyes back to his book, but her gaze pierced his body for the rest of the night, even after she was long gone.