CHAPTER TWELVE
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF LIVING
Love kid. Lost until you give it some kick. You're too young to leave it. Too young to keep it. Love's the breath a Life still lifts when Life is finally over with.
(ONLY REVOLUTIONS, MARK Z. DANIELEWSKI)
ababa
The owl arrives with the morning light. Groggily, I open the letter, only to shriek, as it explodes.
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, YOU'VE –"
I bury the letter underneath my pillow, my heart echoing in my head. I can make out the words disappointment and dress, and really, it should come as no surprise.
My mother sent me a howler. An actual howler. About Pippa's dress. Of course it was about Pippa's dress.
I feel the heat through the pillow as it incinerates, finally falling silent.
ABAB
I wake to the muffled sound of two people speaking downstairs. It is unmistakably Ted, the cadence of his voice as familiar as the sound of my own breathing. I lie on the bed for some time, staring at the intricate snakelike design of the sunflowers. It's all echoes and silence inside this room. Here, between these four walls, it feels like I've never left, as if the past is my present. But six years have passed and the days stand on end. I get up from the comforts of the bed. Pit-patter barefoot across the cool hardwood floor. When I finally come downstairs, I wish I'd stayed in bed all day.
Ted is standing by the kitchen counter, sipping black coffee, watching me like no man has ever watched me. It's these moments in which I keep on forgetting he's the wrong man – someone else's man.
"Hi."
"Hey." Ted take a slow sip of his coffee. He's staring at my boobs and I can't stop the flush that creeps up across my chest, warming my cheeks. It unnerves me how he's still got this effect on me, even after so long. After everything.
"We were just chatting, me and Teddy," Clem says, clutching a mug.
When neither of us comments, she asks me, "Would you like some eggs?"
"Yes, please," I say, sliding into a seat by the table.
He's still staring at me.
We sit in silence for a while, cutting into eggs. I finger the flayed pale-blue laminate of the dinner table. Clem has a brooding look on her face, as if something is bothering her. I nudge her gently. She smiles weakly.
"Will you leave again?" She asks then. It looks like it's been bothering her for a while.
"No," I answer immediately, grabbing her hand, "Of course I won't, Clem."
"Don't promise things you won't keep, Luce." Ted's voice is as immovable as he is.
I stiffen. I wonder what to say, what can I possibly do to make this better. To make his words bear no meaning. Losing him nearly killed me, because it killed every dream and hope I ever had. But there are things here now that just seems like another brick on the invisible wall between us, cutting us apart.
He leaves quickly after that. In fact, I don't think he utters another word before leaving. It takes three seconds from the sound of the door closing before I lower my head, my shoulders giving in. I feel my body crumble as the last resolve leaves me. All purpose has left my bones. Instead, I just feel an insistent need to run.
Clem's hand tentatively squeezes my shoulder.
"I miss him," I whisper, and it feels like such an understatement, but it's the truth. I've missed him every minute he was gone for five years.
Clem looks sad. I stare at her and it's evident, she wants to fix this, but doesn't know how. Hell, the same goes for Ted and I. We keep on trying to fix things, and we just fuck up.
"It's simple." She says.
"No, it's not, Clem."
Her sad eyes are engraved into my mind. And Ted, defiant and smug. His chin tilted up and his jaw set. I have his face rooted in my mind, so irrevocably him. So stubborn and on edge. Dark swashes splashed on the inside of my wrists, forever troubled leftovers of paintings of him. I can't erase him, no matter how hard I try.
My lips quiver, as does my body. "It's not simple. Not anymore."
abbab
Ted 23, Lucy 20, Five years ago
We camp out at Clem's house.
I'm avoiding my mum's icy eyes and my dad's worried frown. Molly just keeps on sighing when she sees me, the disappointment too large for words.
My fingers are a permanent shade of indigo and Ted's hands are forever caressing my bump, caressing our life. He's quiet though.
"Ted, it's okay," I whisper, trying to calm him down. "They'll come around."
He nods tightly, pressing his lips hard against my forehead. I close my eyes. My family is furious. Ted's family is gone. It feels as if we're quite alone here.
"I'm sorry." He's still cradling my face, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath across my lips. "I've ruined it all."
"You haven't. They'll come around." It's the slightest, needling thing to make him alright.
I tell him to sit.
It's those early hours, where the sun peaks before it crests, funny shades and beams of sunlight spread across the wide expand of his chest. My paintbrush moves on its own, the circle of us coming to rest right here, in this room.
I'm standing in the middle of the room, wide eyed. The air is light, my breathing even. He's quiet, too.
Slowly, a smile begins to spread on his face.
The next morning I wake to his kisses up my stomach, his sweet murmurs pressing into my skin.
ababab
The small wreath of honeysuckles wiggles from its spot on the oak door when I knock. It feels strange, knocking on the door of my childhood-home. I can remember running in and out of the entry-hall, Mum yelling at us to take off our boots. The taste of bad consciousness is a faint in my mouth, yet distinctive to here. I try to distract myself as I wait, watching a white larkspur struggle up out of the moss.
"Hi Molly."
I smile at my sister when she opens the door. She stares at me for a long while, blocking the entry. I take in her slim legs in tight stretch jeans, her nice navy shirt and prim hair. She looks like she was born out of the Ministry and I fell my confidence melting away.
Her mouth twists, as if partway through a sarcastic observation. "Does that mean you're done hiding from us?"
"I haven't been hiding."
She scoffs, louder than necessary, her voice thrill. At least her emotions are running ramped, too. It's not just me.
"Oh, yes, you have. Ever since you left, and your dreams burst, you've been hiding as if you were ashamed of what happened. As if we'd judge you when all we ever did was care. We've been worried. Mum's been so worried. "
She sounds vaguely awkward, the words forced, a little too loud. I chew the inside of my chin. "Stop trying to sound like Mum, Molly."
And it's there. In the space between her gasp and my exhale. I find her.
"She sent me a howler."
I meet her eyes. She looks stunned for half a second.
"Well, about time someone said something."
My smile creeps up slowly.
&ss&
The dust settles slowly around me as I toe my way across the loft. The light from the small window in the gable taints the dust red. I watch the rays shimmer across the grey-matted hardwood floor.
The box is hidden in the corner furthest from the door, behind two old tents and an old pair of Molly's skis. An inch of dust covers its surface, making my throat tighten uncomfortably. It is much too important for this status. The ribbons have starting loosening from the corners, but I lift the lid slowly, breathing deeply as I put it aside gently.
I reach into it, pulling out a small shoe. It's knitted and looks tiny in the palm of my hand. The moving picture from the ultrasound is taunting in its black and white glow, the flickering of the heartbeat playing an ironic tune of pitter patter as I hold onto the paper for dear life.
The air is humid and dense up here, as my knees hit the floor. Brown dust sinks around me, coating the underside of my arms and legs. My hands are large and cold. There is blue silk and a small note of announcement in my lap, poppies in the corner and hard paper between my fingers. Something that says baby, but baby is long gone and folded into a small and simple box, hidden away.
It's not like they said –
Be careful, this happens all the time.
Instead it was empty words, sad gestures and a small, unhelpful pamphlet.
A gasp of air escapes me, like the air going out of a balloon. It hasn't been long, those five years of loving him. I had a long life before I loved Ted. I have had a long life after loving him, too.
The itch for a walk is in my throat, yet my legs are unmoving. I am dying, of course. In that sense, we are all dying of something at some point in time. But I am dying of loss. Right here, right now.
But eventually, we all fade into the air.
&aba&
Ted 23, Lucy 20, Five years ago
"Have you been keeping well?"
She stands by the door, unsure as if to stay or go.
I look at her. "Dom."
"So, you're going to be a secretary for the rest of your life, then?" She looks at me, her lips curling.
"It's alright," I tell her, but she's already shaking her head before the words are out. A curse, and there's Dom fighting our fight.
"It's not. You're working yourself to death and Ted has thrown himself heedlessly into the auror-academy. You're losing yourself."
I leave her on the corner of the office. She looks angry, sad even, but lately I've been unable to distinguish the two.
Back home, Ted is pacing across the hardwood-floor.
"You threw out your paintings."
I stop in my steps. Slowly hang my coat and scarf.
"Yes."
"Why?" He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. The paintings are standing stacked behind him.
"We both need to make compromises."
"No, I'll make the compromises. You love painting, you need to continue painting."
I shake my head, swallowing. "My mother disowned me, Ted. We need the money."
"This isn't the way."
"It's the only way."
It's distanced us. Becoming soon to be parents has distanced us more than I expected. I don't understand love anymore. I don't understand what has changed or the shades I can love him in rage, anger, idiocy. I did not expect the feel of defeat of loving him.
Ted is pacing the room, going nowhere in particular.
"No." He says it vehemently.
"Yes."
I feel the anger heaving at him, my hand hover over air as something cracks and I lose my nerve. I miss it then. The simplicity of living. Ted and I rolling around in bed laughing, naked.
"I love you," I tell him. It comes out like a breath.
I intertwine his fingers with mine for the first time in weeks. "I'm just not sure that that is enough anymore."
&aba&
Stupid Vic and her stupid perfect smile that I never got to tell bugger off, because she doesn't listen.
"Don't bother arguing."
Somehow, it's become about what I've missed or what I'm about to miss. Vic looks me over.
"I brought your car. Had to charm it in order to get here, so you better be thankful."
I don't say anything. In fact I'm trying very hard to not say anything, out of spite.
"Clem, my kids are eating your berries. Hope none of them are poisonous. On the other hand…" Vic smiles at Clem as she dumps a bag on the kitchen-room floor. I hear child-laughter coming from the garden, the sound light and bubbly – so light that a smile inches across my face.
Shoulder to shoulder, Vic sits down beside me on the bench.
"I brought you something. Maybe… I don't know - you could paint again?"
"Vic…"
I rub my face with my hands as she slides a paint kit into my lap.
"I know. But it's a shame really. And you said you've been sleeping better."
"Not with Thing One, Two and Three I haven't."
"Come on, they're not that bad."
"Yes, they are Vic." I say, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. I don't care for pretending anymore.
We're quiet for a few minutes, and when I speak again, it's all pretences gone.
"She called me a house-wrecker, Vic. A house-wrecker. That I destroyed him. Did I really? Am I that horrible kind of a person. Because to me, it feels like he took all the good things and left me with nothing."
Opening my eyes, I raise my head to look at her and we catch each other in a real moment.
"Come on," Vic gets up, squeezing my leg, "we're getting you something sassy for Ted's bachelor party. I bet my grandmother's shop has something worth nicking. You can even drive me around that horrid yellow car. I have a tickling urge to feel like a circus animal today."
&aba&
Driving through town is like being in a circus. Every living man or woman stares as we drive. After a while, Vic gets impatient.
"Yes, it's the girl who got preggers at twenty!", she yells out the window at an old lady, who's stopped midway across the road just to stare.
Despite myself, a laugh bubbles out my tightly closed lips.
&anb&
I find myself at the bar, not sure how I got there, not sure about my dress either. It's short, black and too tight. I'm wearing red lipstick, in a feeble attempt at bravery. Vic left me at the entrance with a wet kiss and a 'you look stunning, babe'. None of that feels very comforting now.
James is sitting by the bar, chucking drinks, when I get inside the bar. A group of strippers are dancing around the boys sitting at the table behind him. The club is dimly lit, with a dingy smell of old beer and spilled drinks.
"Looks like they're having fun," I comment, sliding into a seat beside him.
James grunts, chucking a shot of tequila.
"Jeesh, it's two o'clock in the afternoon, James."
"Gotta start sometime."
I decide to join him, downing one of the whiskey-shots he's left on the table. James raises an eyebrow.
"Atta girl."
The whiskey burns down my throat, offering a warmth that's been missing all day. I order another one.
"Luce!" Darren sweeps a kiss on my cheek, before sitting beside me. "Glad you could make it, love."
"Cheers," I raise my glass at him.
I think I've overestimated myself, thinking I could do this. I watch strippers dance and sweet-talk Ted and all I seem to do is stare. This, I think. I can't call it anything other than this, that, here and there, the sheer horrendousness of it all making my throat tight.
Darren nudges me.
I meet his eyes. "Seems like they're having fun."
"Heh," he rubs his face uncomfortably. "It's strippers, what did you expect?"
"More glitter," I take a sip of my drink, "definitely more glitter."
&aba&
Scorpius arrives, making my heart light with relief. He kisses my mouth swiftly, surprising me.
"Petal, you look beautiful."
I smile at him gratefully as he takes a seat next to me, his arm wrapped tightly around my side like my very own security blanket. I catch movement out of the corner of my eye as Ted makes his way up to the bar.
"Luce," Ted says, kissing my cheek. He smells of fags and booze and a pungent sweet perfume.
"And the bachelor is in the house! Cheers, mate!" Darren hands Ted a drink, smiling largely.
"What's it like being catered by so many lovely ladies?" James winks at him.
"Heh," Ted looks mildly uncomfortable, "I ain't complaining."
"You better not!" Darren guffaws, hitting him on his back. "Besides, you're used to it!"
"What does he mean by that?" I look over at James.
He doesn't meet my eyes. "Nothing."
"Rubbish!" Darren laughs, his high spirit making him louder still. "He used to be the town's McSteamy for a long, long time."
"That's not really true," Ted pulls at his collar, his cheeks pinking.
It's his familiar blush. And I hate that it's because of something like this that he's blushing.
"Oh, come off it, Ted, you used to help the town's women with every little pickle. " Darren giggles.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing, Luce." James says.
"No, what does it mean?"
"It means that Ted's bedroom door was open to any of the married women, if they needed to get, ahem, oiled their machinery, so to say." Darren winks at me, grinning largely.
Looking the guys over again, I offer a small smile. "I see."
It kills me that I give a fuck.
"It stopped, when Pippa came into the picture," James says, obviously trying to amend the situation.
"That was six months ago!"
"So?" Ted stares at me.
I try not to be burned by the way he looks at me, but for some reason I can't explain, I still care what he does or have done. I still care what he thinks and I definitely care what I think about the things he's done.
"So, you've been a filthy whore for four and a half years?" I try to keep the distaste out of my voice, I really do.
"More like three," James pipes up.
"Still."
"What's the problem, Lucy?" Ted has the fucking nerve to look puzzled.
"It's just – just it's - it's promiscuous – "
Ted laughs out loud. "Seriously? Welcome to the 21st century. "
"Come off it, like you haven't tickled the berries the past five years," Darren nods towards Scorpius who looked slightly awkward.
I whip my head around, "Um, I – I –"
Scorpius kisses my forehead. "Flower and I have a perfectly healthy sex-life, thank you very much. Right, tiger?"
I nod mutely.
"Well, glad we got that one out of the way." Ted puts his drink forcefully down on the table.
He walks back to the strippers. I watch his back, wondering why we can't sort this out better. Why do we do this to each other?
&aba&
The strippers mount the bachelor and I watch them twirl and swirl their long blonde hair in his face, mouthing dirty words at him, as if they had diamonds at the apex of their thighs.
It's everything. I can't fucking see or hear, all I've been reduced to is to a nod at the bartender, ordering another round and another, and another…
"Don't you think you've had enough?"
And suddenly he's there again, one hand on my arm, this strange pretence of caring that I cannot quite cope with. The burn of his hand is heart-breaking. Its unbearable to feel his skin on mine, when he isn't mine anymore.
My lips turn, my tongue heavy in my mouth. "Oh, grow up, Ted. "
"What?" He releases my arm, his face jumps in and out of focus, I can feel his breath on my face and my mouth twists.
"I – I just mean that I grew up . Instead of becoming this – this – "
"What exactly?"
"This whore." The word expands inside my mouth, making my voice thrill, "Who runs around with werewolves and dives off cliffs just to feel closer to his parents. It's careless. And it's not – it's not healthy to be indifferent to life, Ted. Just because your parents died, and you feel like life's an endless stretch of wasteland, doesn't mean - it doesn't mean you should be indifferent. Because that, Ted, that's worse than death."
He laughs then, angry as I suspected, and shifts back to watch me. "Well, I'm glad you've got me all figured out then."
He turns his back on me, obviously thinking I'm a lame-ass excuse of a best man. I probably am.
"Stop being a bitch, Luce." James nudges me. "Momma got you this awesome job in the big city, so you can be all tough and classy and write stuff, while we stay in this small town. Merlin, your superiority is killing me. It's not like you got the job by yourself."
My mouth wrinkles. "What is your problem? You've been driving me nuts all week."
"What is your problem? My problem is you, Lucy. Torturing him, leaving stupid comments to remind him of what he doesn't have. Grow up? It's you who needs growing up. You're like a little girl always wanting what she can't have. You grow up. We were good before you came."
I slam my drink down. The liquid is cold against my skin, but I clench the bottle hard. I bite my cheek hard, until I taste blood.
"Yeah good and freaking false. All these housewives cheating on their husbands with Teddy here, worrying about cooking or gardening. And then we have people like you, James, who's so busy playing for the gallery that you forget that you have to date birds in order to convince all the dumbass dicks in this hellhole. Tell me, James, how does it feel to be the standing joke of the Potter family? A queer among our ranks. Poppa must be proud. Or wait, you haven't told him!"
And then there is the silence, so loud you can't seem to escape it.
Smack. I jump, my eyes closed, but it's just James's drink, toppled over, the whiskey spilling out onto the floor. And James barging out the door.
The whiskey smell is hard.
"Wait, what is she talking about?" Darren's naïve, stupid and Merlin, I'm irritated, bordering on angry.
"Just shut up, Darren," says Scorpius. I meet his eyes. He looks disappointed. All warmth has hissed out of my body, yet I can hardly hear a thing for the blood drumming in my ears.
"I'll –" Scorpius starts, but stops. Squeezes my hand before walking out the door.
Darren and I sit in silence for a while. I try not to absorb the snap of irritation in the way he puts down his drink.
"Where's James?"
Ted turns up in front of me. He's staring at me, and I don't know what to say.
"He left." Darren says.
"Left?"
"Yup." Darren's silent for a beat, before sighing. "Luce and him had a wee bit of a fight."
There are moments I feel alien to him. I watch his posture change to anger, as he looms over me. They're not as rare as they once were, but that's to be expected, somehow. He laughs, just long enough for Darren and I to share a look.
When I was six, he blew on my boo boo patch to make me stop crying. I told him he was the prettiest boy I'd ever seen.
"Great. Just great, Lucy. God, do you have to be such a bitch?" Ted slams down his drink and its liquid joins James's in a symmetric shape of hatred. I don't meet his eyes, but stare at the small lake, collecting at our feet.
Ted's voice is hard. Merciless.
"Just because you're unhappy, don't have to make everyone else too. Guess what - the universe doesn't actually revolve around you! Get your head out of your arse."
He still is. He is beauty and hatred all in one. The emotions fill my throat up, so tightly I can't speak. I can't breathe. All I can do is nod at my feet. His beauty is out of this world. Merciless like his word. This quiet weapon brings me to my knees.
I stumble out the bar. Outside the dimmed streetlights feel like a thousand limelights, blinding me. I think of Ted's smile the other night, just before he dove into the waves. Of his laughter as it echoed through the woods.
I feel the air leave me, one shudder at a time, my whole heart in my voice. By the time I reach Clem's house, I am breathless and cold.
It is different entering the house now. I do not feel the warmth of familiarity engulf me. I am reeling, spinning into the nothingness that I've become. I barely sense my legs moving, taking me upstairs. It's completely dark around me as I reach my room.
I push onwards, towards the window, forcing it open, resting against the sill on my forearms and breathing deep. Its coolness balances me a bit.
We all carry out prisons with us.
And it's there. Shining in the moonlight under the sour sky and spoiled clouds. I turn back away from the window to watch it, marvelling at its familiarity. The diamond at its centre sparkles gently. The grey sky chilled the light as I bend to my knees to come face to face with my nightmare.
This ring. Such a petty little thing. Such inconsequential tragedies. I feel the gust of a wind as the sky rumbles in satisfaction. Irritated, I brush away the wetness gathering beneath my eyes. Reach out.
It's cool and heavier than I remember. And it fits, its weight soothing.
The familiarity of it on my finger makes my stomach turn. I am standing on the tip of the mountain, the wind sucking me towards the window. In this instant, it could have been six years ago. Another day, another year, another me. This small token is all that remains of what used to be. The air in the room is too cold and the world is fragile against my fingertips. I pull at the ring, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. I pull, and I pull, pain crawling up my arm, my finger reddening and warming. And suddenly the air is quite dense, heavy in my head.
"Oh, sod it."