Acorns laced the autumnal ground, littered with fallen leaves, laden with vivid hues of burnt sienna and deep fawn. Squirrels locked their sights on the gleaming treasures that nestled comfortably atop the blanket of caramel grass, planning to tuck the symbols of luck into their furry pockets for their midnight snack. Sparrows fluffed up their sepia feather coats, turning into rotund balls of walking songs.
I wondered why we chose to define seasons with a certain tone: spring for new beginnings, summer for ecstatic exhilaration, autumn, coffee-coloured changes and winter, in all its cold endings. People forgot that nothing ever ended without beginning, and there wasn't a thing on earth that could begin without first ending.
Spring wasn't the season for falling in love; winter wasn't the time of falling apart. Things happened when they happened – we defied what the seasons demanded on a daily basis.
Life didn't revolve around finding somebody else to make you happy. It was about being able to find happiness from within you, and then sharing that happiness with others. I think that was the most important lesson I learnt that year.
"Earth to McDreamy," Luna pinched my fleshy arm harshly, sending tingles of pain up my arm. My head shivered slightly in response, effectively snapping me out of my reverie.
"Ow. What?" I whined back, rubbing the sore spot where her petite but strong fingers had nipped my dry skin. I pouted childishly in the pastel dream's direction.
"Look," she hissed, a viper's forking tongue slithering out from between its sharpened fangs. Her sky blue eyes glowed frightening red with urgency.
I looked over at the scene that had caught her attention, only to be surprised by the sight of Julius and Candace standing in front of Sonata Tailoring, fingers timidly intertwining, faintest dusky rose blushes painting their cheeks. For the past year, for the past four years, in fact, they had been on a perpetual rollercoaster; always coming so close and just missing the mark. Candace retreating into her bashful shell while Julius found himself tumbling over his nervous words.
There wasn't one word in the English language to describe it: when two people loved each other, but were too shy to admit it. When everything they did affirmed it, and only their mouths denoted the opposite.
Twenty-eight years. Twenty-eight years they had waited to finally get it right; the lilac-haired boy she had gazed longingly at ever since she was a little girl, steel-blue mane tied neatly into two immaculate pigtails. The painfully withdrawn girl he had plucked flowers for, crushing them beneath his heel when his boyish pride got the better of him. It had taken them twenty-eight whole years, but both their eyes whispered the same thing: you were worth the wait.
"Finally, huh?" I murmured to Luna, as a sisterly smile of contentment graced her porcelain features.
"About time," she huffed, raising her poison ivy exterior. Raspberry cream swirled joyfully below; velvety softness hiding behind her falsely exasperated words. She was happy for her sister, who had finally gotten what she wanted. Their years of patience ultimately paid off, when they stopped living in fear and expectations and embraced one another as they were.
That was love.
The question sprang to mind: had they let everything fall into place organically, or had they conquered fate by choosing their own destiny? Had it always meant to magically work out the moment they turned twenty-eight, or had it only became achievable once they learnt to see one another for who they really were?
Whatever it was, they had finally come out on top. Triumphant. They had ended up winning the biggest prize of all.
"How's the boyfriend?" I winked coquettishly at Kathy, as the dreamy autumn sunlight reflected marigold in her platinum ponytail.
Kathy, Luna, Selena and I stood in the middle of Flute Fields, surrounded by the entire population of Castanet. Across the meadow, I caught sight of Owen speaking with Hayden, as the bearded father gave the muscled redhead a hearty slap on the back, genuine happiness radiating from his crinkled eyes. Kathy got her eyes from her father.
"Actually, really good," Kathy replied contentedly, a newfound vibrancy dancing along her beaming face. Gone were the twenty-pound anvils tugging at her eye bags, the listless desperation clinging to her sunken cheeks. A plump fullness now resided where the tired emptiness used to lie.
"What changed with lover boy?" Selena quizzed snarkily, by habit rather than true intent. We had all grown accustomed to her mincing tones a long time ago; we knew that it was just her habitual manner of talking, and underneath lay a true, hidden geniality.
Selena was a jawbreaker. Cheek-puckering tart, wincingly sour and capable of shattering your teeth and slicing your tongue at a moment's notice. If you tried to dig deeper, all you would find was layer after layer of the same toughened exterior. Only when you got to the final, naked core did she reveal her true self: sweet, but still chewy. Still capable of ripping your molars out if she wanted to. But this was the sweet part: she never wanted to.
Kathy smiled gently. Something had changed; it wasn't just that she was happier now. She was the daisy that had been wilting for years, parched for rain that she wasn't sure was ever going to come. And finally, the clouds had shed their tears. She had been revived; came back to life. She had found peace.
Her glossy lips parted, satin flower petals unfurling after two years of drooping slumber. "The very reason I know what we are to each other is because we fight freely and almost constantly, about even the smallest thing. In fact, once, we didn't speak for an entire week because I didn't like the way he loaded the dishwasher. I can't decide if we're exact opposites, or somehow exactly the same, except for minor cosmetic differences. We drive each other crazy in ways nobody else can touch." Her emerald orbs darted up to find him in the sea of people. Their eyes met, instinctively, like they'd had plenty of training in all their past lives. The unsaid words flittered through their gaze, twirling on their gurgling feet and lifting their faces exultantly to the sky. "We never bore each other," she continued, I will always, truly, completely love you, "And we both realize what a rare thing this is."
"That is so immensely cheesy," Luna rolled her baby blue eyes, sticking her tongue out in a show of feigned immaturity. She was just as much of a romantic as the next girl, but her venomous shell forbade her from exposing the melting puddle she was on the inside. "I need a bucket."
"Grow up," I elbowed her side jestingly, earning a high growl from her pouting mauve lips, perfectly arched Cupid's bow contorting in childish displeasure.
"By the way, does anyone know why we're here?" Kathy's buzzing voice caught our attention. Selena, Luna and I shared a knowing look, sly smirks creeping up our faces.
"Maybe I could shed some light on the situation," Owen's hot chocolate tones softened on the bombshell's ears, as his bulky arms caught her waist from behind, temporarily lifting Kathy off her feet.
A sultry giggle erupted from her lips, as she turned to face her boyfriend of three years. They shared a tender smile, in that intimate language – a fleeting graze could mean come here and a tap on the shoulder was I forgive you – only the two of them understood. "What's going on?" she grilled in confusion.
"I heard what you said about me," he goaded joyously, tilting his head as he gazed at her.
"I wasn't trying to keep it a secret," Kathy retaliated fondly, with a speed she had undoubtedly garnered after years of banter with him.
"You meant it." He said it as more of a statement than a question; that was certainty. Being able to hear I love you leave her lips and never second-guess it.
"I did."
Owen got down on one knee, mantis green blades of grass flattening beneath, graciously pillowing his hefty weight. His large fingers laced with Kathy's; even the way their fingerprints pressed against one another's heaved with their unique, untouchable, unbreakable love.
"I know you and I aren't about poems or other sentimental clichés, but all I can say is that even the way you drink your coffee in the morning just knocks me out. And I've known for a long time that you're the only person in the world I ever want to watch drinking coffee while I pretend to read the paper, because, let's face it, we both know I'm not actually reading anything." Kathy laughed again, and you could tell that her laugh dotted Owen's stratosphere with glittering fairy lights along its edges. "It hasn't been easy, and I can't promise that it's going to be easy from here on out either. But you deserve the world, and I'm going to try my hardest to be the best husband I can be for you."
"You assume I'm going to say yes," Kathy breathed teasingly, moved tears welling up in her glistening emerald eyes. They both already knew.
"Aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she exclaimed, as she pulled him up and he enveloped her in the arms she called home. Her tan cowgirl boots flew off the ground as Owen picked her up in jubilant celebration, and metallic confetti rained down around them as the townspeople cracked the party poppers they had been concealing. For a split second, the world came to rest in the couple's bodies, spinning a hundred times faster around them; just for them.
Owen had gathered everybody at Flute Fields as part of his plan to propose to Kathy. She had always wanted a public proposal because she thought of everyone on Castanet as her family. It had been no easy feat, spreading the message while purposefully ensuring it remained hidden from her, but with Luna, Selena, Luke, Julius, Toby and my help, Owen had successfully pulled it off.
His best friends, the feline-eyed carpenter and glamorous accessory-maker, along with my favourite dozy fisherman, went to congratulate him with brotherly pats on the back and touching hugs. Luna, Selena and I rushed to engulf Kathy in an elated group embrace, sincere smiles plastered onto all of our faces. Happiness emanated from our grips, delight and excitement bubbling from our choruses of squeals.
"Bridesmaids, all of you," Kathy commanded instantaneously, drawing us closer together.
"None of that puffy peach dress rubbish," Selena warned menacingly.
"I promise," Kathy chuckled back blissfully.
Hayden's face was radiant with paternal pride, whispering the words that could send anybody into tears, "Your mother would be so happy."
"I love you, Dad," she purred in response, before throwing herself forcefully into his hulking form, wet cheek landing restfully on his chest.
"Congratulations, Boy," Ramsey's rasping notes rang through the festive air, "finally found a woman who can tolerate your snoring. I'm proud of you."
"Thanks, Gramps," Owen smiled, getting a little teary himself.
Chloe pounced onto his back, youthful glee escaping from her lips. "This doesn't mean you can stop playing with me," she informed him impishly, ginger ponytails swaying in the cinnamon autumn breeze, "In fact, make Grandpa some great-grandkids and then I'll have more playmates."
"Woah, hey," Owen flailed about under the pressure, "I'll play with you, I promise!"
Laughter swirled through the atmosphere, warmth flowing like a river. I was hit with a sudden sense of nostalgia; an immense wave of missing my mother and father and Kasey. A certain sadness tugged right below my heart, in the gaping cavity above my diaphragm.
"You okay?" Toby's dulcet tones wafted mellifluously onto my ears, breaking me out of my unsolicited blues. I turned to face him, and the deep melancholy was rapidly replaced with singing sunshine.
"I'm great," I hummed tranquilly, hazel eyes drifting to appreciate the wonderful people I called my friends around me.
This was my family now.
That day, exuberance pirouetted through the fields like a ballerina on her pointed toes, familial affection whirling like a rhythmic gymnast's ribbon. Honey leaves nestled their tapered ends in the crooks of their neighbour's veins, joining in on the glorious victory of unadulterated love.
I liked to call this the calm before the storm.
Heath came crying to the Carpenter's, saline streaks trailing down his round cheeks, tanned skin turned ruby from his tortured sobbing. Warm, heart-wrenching sadness dribbled down his infantile face.
"Buddy, what's wrong?" Luke's usually upbeat voice was crushed with concern, his amber eyes creasing at this perturbing sight.
Being so closely located to the General Shop, and given Luke's well of infinite energy, it was no surprise that he was one of Heath's best playmates; since Van seemed to favour burying his nose in books over running around and jumping in mud. In stark contrast, Luke perpetually had dirt of some sort grazing his sharp cheekbones and tiny scratches lining his grinning jaw.
"It's Mom," Heath rasped through his laboured weeping, reaching the asphyxiating state of hyperventilation.
"Hey, hey," Luke cooed soothingly, stroking Heath's downy turquoise locks; the exact shade as the vibrant coils that graced Phoebe's head, "deep breaths. What happened to your mom?"
Dale and I turned our heads to witness the unfolding scene, abandoning our discussion about a potential house upgrade on the counter. My canines dug into my waxy bottom lip, trying to absorb some of Heath's unfathomable pain. No three-year-old should have been allowed to experience such agony; cold, steel knives hanging from a baby's spinning mobile.
Heath managed to choke out the two words that would manage to knock our worlds completely off their axis. That would take our rotating earths and lob them like skipping stones, finally landing completely upside down.
"She's gone."
Luke wasted no time. "What about your dad?" he questioned in admirably calm tones, electric blue, untamed eyebrows furrowing in anxiety.
"Sleeping," Heath coughed, bringing a small fist up to wipe away his dripping tears, in a valiant attempt to gain some sort of composure, "and he won't wake up."
Dread washed over me in deathly chills. My heart was pounding so loudly, I could hear it in my ears.
"Where is he?" I quickly butted in, feeling the galloping organ rearing to leap out of my throat.
"Home," Heath replied through fresh blubbers. I looked pointedly at Luke, signaling that I was going to find Calvin. He nodded in response, audibly gulping in apprehensive worry.
You know those nightmares where you're running from something but you can't run fast enough? Each clack of my farm boots against the graveled ground felt torturously long; boulders shackled themselves to my ankles, dragging cumbersomely behind my heavy feet. By the time I finally reached the General Store, my vision was throbbing behind my eyes.
Barbara and Simon were mysteriously missing, neither manning the counter of the shop. I raced to the room Calvin and Phoebe shared, legs ready to give out at any moment.
The putrid stench of alcohol and bile assaulted my nostrils. Rancid acidity seeped into every crevice of the room, imbuing even the antique carpet with the migraine-inducing reek.
In the middle of the room, splayed out on the floor, was Calvin. His wavy, sandy blonde locks were a mass of knots and tangles, grease saturating the damp roots. His pores gasped for oxygen, parting as far open as they could to expel the cocktail of liquor that ran through his system. Various bottles – copper whisky, cheap merlot wine, colourless vodka – littered the space around him; all shamefully empty. His azure eyes were glazed over, half-lidded and staring blankly at the crumpled note he grasped in his bloody-knuckled hands.
"What's going on here?" I yelled, in a mixture of shock and fright, pinching my nose between my fingers, so as to avoid inhaling the odour that could have gotten you drunk through scent alone.
Unsurprisingly, I was greeted with total silence. Daring to inch closer towards the inebriated mess, I boldly plucked the wrinkled letter out from Calvin's trembling grip.
Calvin,
I thought I could do it. I really did.
I had always thought that all I truly wanted from life was a family; a nice man and one or two children. You gave me all of that. And I can't thank you enough.
We got our happily ever after.
But no one ever tells you what comes after that.
You told me all those stories about your travels, all the things you got to experience with your own two eyes. The things you ran your fingertips over and how you remembered the way they left their impressions on you forever. You got to live that life.
I never got to.
I thought I could be satisfied; thought having a family would keep me grounded. Keep my head from soaring too close to the sun.
It wasn't enough.
We thought that we could never bore one another. In your vows, you said that every moment we spent together was exciting. But those were all lies, weren't they? Of course we grew bored. Restless. Reality came and ate us up.
You fell into drinking and I fell into my dreams. We needed an escape.
Heath. Heath, I love him so much. Please, even if you hate me now, please tell him how much I love him. He's my entire world. He kept me here so much longer than I thought was possible. He deserves so much more than we can give him. He deserves a father who doesn't depend on alcohol and a mother who can stick around.
I know I'm being so insanely selfish. But I need to take care of myself before I can take care of Heath, or even you. Please, try to become a better father for him. I'm not one to talk, but he's our perfect little angel.
Maybe one day I'll come back, and we'll meet again. When we're both better for each other. But right now, I can't stay.
I'm so sorry.
I'll always love the both of you, with all my heart.
Phoebe
That was the day I learnt that good people could still do horrible things.
I felt a calloused palm latch onto my calf, sending jolts of alarm through my body. I jumped slightly, before noticing that the hand belonged to Calvin, who had finally gained some form of consciousness.
"She left," he croaked, husky voice rotting with devastation and grief. Even his words stank of brokenness; begging for water to quench the dried bark of his pitch. Begging for her to come back.
I peeked through the crack in the doorway of the room opposite, catching sight of Barbara and Simon looking utterly heartbroken in their bedroom.
"I'm sorry," I offered quietly, tucking the sheet of paper into my pocket. I went to retrieve a glass of tepid water from the kitchen, setting it down beside the shattered thirty-one-year-old, before gently closing the door behind me and heading back to the Carpenter's, a ball of secondhand sympathy beginning to contract in my chest.
Luke could immediately detect the rankness of alcohol that had bled onto my clothes from the few minutes I had spent in the pungent room. He caught a glimpse of the despondency dragging down on my face, and he instantly knew. I dropped the soiled note into his hand, covered in his tatty leather glove, and gnawed on the inside of my cheek fearfully.
One hand pacifying the silently sniffling Heath, and the other holding the letter, Luke's amber eyes darted across the page at breakneck speed. He always did everything hastily; forever bounding, always in motion.
His eyes lifted to meet mine, and we shared a meaningful look of determination. A look that said everything without saying anything.
A look riddled with consequences that we weren't sure we were ready to face.
All of a sudden, we had the colossal responsibility of a child on our shoulders.
And he wasn't even ours.
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Dry' by Augusten Burroughs or Clementine von Radics' work.
Author's Note: How out of character was Phoebe? I know the themes just got a whole lot heavier, but I don't really intend to focus too much on that. It's really more of a vehicle to set the next events of the story in motion. I feel a little bad though, like Calvin is never getting his happy ending. Anyway, the story is far from over! (Although we're actually more than halfway through.) Thank you, once again, for all the support! I appreciate each and every one of you.