It wasn’t that Maddy actually hated her apartment. It was a perfectly fine place. It’s just that it suddenly felt bland. The colors were too muted and everything looked as drained of life as she felt, and that was what she hated. She could no longer see herself in this environment. Or maybe she never actually had. It was like recent years had molded her into something different than who she was at her core, and going back to the past had reminded her of who that was.
Sometimes when change is gradual, it’s difficult to really notice it. Sometimes it’s not easy to block out the opinions of others. Maddy had met plenty of people with plenty of opinions about her—opinions that, slowly but steadily, had shaped the way she spoke, the way she carried herself around others. Once, she had never cared about simply liking what she liked, doing her own thing. But over time, that had changed. She’d safeguarded as much of herself as possible but some things had still slipped through the cracks.
And when Maddy had woken up that morning, she’d realized she could see less and less of the person she was and missed, in the walls around her.
“No, it’s nothing like that, Stace,” she remembered to answer her friend. Stacie had been dropping by more often lately to check up on her, despite the fact that they saw each other every day at work. “Firstly, there’s no break-up.” Was it a break-up if the other half of the equation didn’t remember her in the first place? “Secondly, I am very much over putting my hair through awful situations. That ship has long sailed. And thirdly, I don’t know, I just feel like I would like to make the place moreme.”
That was only part of the truth and Maddy knew it. In her heart she knew that she didn’t want to keep wallowing for something that wouldn’t change. And she didn’t want to wallow anymore, period. She wanted something that would keep her mind off things, and her hands busy.
Stacie was looking at her as if she could see right through her, and she probably did, but at least she made no comments. Which Maddy appreciated. “Okay, friend. If that’s what you wanna do, then that’s what we’ll do.” She then looked around her living room with a scrutinizing eye while she chewed on an apple slice.
They were both sitting cross-legged on the sofa in deep contemplation before Maddy broke the silence.
“I want to bring my books out in the living room. Buy a nice bookcase and some shelves to put on the walls and bring them out here. Most of them are in boxes or in messy piles, and I miss looking at their spines.”
She stood up and started pacing around, picturing the changes. “I could make some space over here, and maybe even paint this wall a darker shade of this cream color I have, maybe make it a bit brighter. It could be a sort of book corner, with a quirky lamp right on the side. It would be perfect for cold nights.” She could feel the excitement that fizzed in her veins.
“And flowers. My bedroom is too dull, I want to look for some flower paintings, and then different bed covers and rugs for the floor to go with them.” She was still walking around, nodding her head and almost talking to herself.
It took her quite some time to realize that Stacie hadn’t uttered a single word yet.
Maddy paused her anxious back-and-forth and turned to look at her. Stacie’s expression mirrored exactly what she was feeling.
She knew she felt lost. She was desperate for something to hold on to. She also knew that she couldn’t get back what she was missing. That part had irrevocably walked away. But she needed something to help her get back on her feet, just as a start. And then she would go back to life as it had been.
If only she could find some sense of comfort in that.
twenty-eight
The sharp shrill of the alarm clock jolted Nate out of one the most vivid dreams he’d ever had.
Even though he could already feel it slipping away, his mind desperately tried to cling to those last vestiges of sleep in an attempt to remember as many details as possible. But all he was left with was the memory of a breeze that filled him with the scent of flowers, a glimpse of dark, soft hair, and a laughter that made him ache.
He opened his eyes to the sight of his semi-lit ceiling, the first rays of sunlight breaking through his curtains. He didn’t move for several minutes, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down. He could feel his T-shirt sticking to him having almost sweat through it, and goosebumps pebbled the skin on his arms.
Nate knew he was awake but it was like his mind and his body were out of sync, his body registering something before his mind could catch up.
He rubbed his face in an attempt to shake off the sleep and the residues of the dream.
Throwing off the covers, he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to wash the night off himself. Glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink as he waited for the water in the shower to warm up, he confirmed that he looked as tired as he felt.
Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes, the exhaustion clear as day. It seemed that being able to sleep peacefully and uninterruptedly was kind of a big deal. Of course Nate wouldn’t know, since he hadn’t been able to sleep through the night since the accident he’d almost had about a couple of weeks before.
Every day his routine was the same as always. He went to work, he came home, he ate, he showered. He’d even started working out again. He did all the things he did before that day. But every time his body laid down to rest, his mind was plagued by an invisible torment he didn’t understand.
The doctors that had checked him out had found nothing wrong with him physically. He’d been told that it could be an after-effect of the accident. That would explain the agitation he felt every time he tried to relax.
What it wouldn’t explain though was that deep sense of loss that seemed to eat him from within, gnawing at his insides, like an injury that pulsed, never letting him forget that it was there. He carried that feeling with him everywhere he went. It was a void he didn’t know how to explain.
Steam started to fog the mirror as the water turned scalding hot and Nate climbed in the shower hoping to burn that feeling away. He sighed as the water pelted his skin, making him feel almost human again. He knew though that it never lasted long.
His mind kept replaying that scene over and over, whether he was awake or asleep.
One moment he’d been walking down the busy street and the next he was clashing with someone so hard he’d felt the other party fling themselves onto open traffic. It was instinct to try and reach for the dark-haired woman, instinct to try and shield her from harm, instinct to put his body between her and the car hurtling towards them.
She’d known his name, whispering it to him even moments before the impact. The impact that thankfully never fully happened, but merely knocked them down violently.
Nate had been too dizzy afterwards, his back hurting like a bitch. He wasn’t even sure if he’d been able to talk to her, to make sure she was okay.
