“After we moved to Canada, I found it really difficult to sleep,” I said, my eyes still firmly on the leaves. “If you’d asked, I would havesaid I was fine. A well-adjusted child who found the cross-continent change easy. But my parents would have disagreed,” I huffed a laugh, twirling the tube in my hands. “I couldn’t sleep unless Mum and I didten for ten. I would start by tickling her back with the timer strictly set to ten minutes. I never went over and as soon as that beeping started, I would roll over as if my life depended on it. An eager beaver ready for my turn. And then she would run her fingers along my back. I wasn’t sure if I always fell asleep before the timer went off, or if, more likely, she never set one and simply stayed with me for as long as it took for me to settle. But it was something we started again when I stayed with her recently. Only this time, the roles were reversed,” I sniffed, feeling betrayed at the tears which were now flowing freely at the memory.
“Her tickling was distinctive. A little bit of nail, a little bit of fingertip and a whole lot of love. She would draw places she wanted to take me. Always outdoors and always beautiful and she would describe them to me as she did. I was never a lover of bedtime stories but hearing her breathe life into these places through only her words and a sketch on my back was magic. No one has ever made me feel as comforted as she did and that’s something I miss every single day.” I watched the tears hit the earth below, the tiniest of droplets as I unscrewed the cap.
“I don’t remember my dad as much, but Mum spoke so beautifully about him that I feel as though he lived as long as her. She always was so good at bringing him to life.”
I paused, looking at the tube through my clouded vision. This one was swirled with elements of the colourCaribbean Sea- a carefully selected colour palette to accompany two of my favourite people.
I closed my eyes and pictured them, Mum forming much clearer in my mind than Dad but both sitting together, holding hands. If they could see this, they would be nodding encouragingly and spurring me forward, only it felt so much harder than I thought it would be. Once I did this, I would no longer have them with me in their entirety.
Was I ready for that?
I stood still, the tears falling for what could have been seconds or minutes, the pressure in my chest building. A balloon filled with air, so close to bursting but unable to release the expansion of grief, of sorrow, of frustration. Why did I think doing this was the right thing to do? How could I do this and then just walk away?
Ready to just give up and go, I felt the featherlight touch of fingertips gliding over my spine. A little nail, a little fingertip, a lot of heat. The unmistakable feel of companionship melting my tension with every stroke.
“I’ve got you,” Corbin whispered, the push I needed to unscrew the lid. “Remember, this is a moment of love, not loss. A part of their spirit will stay here now.”
I focused on the reassuring cadence of his voice, the caress of his support through the cotton of my shirt and the sanctity of his words. Carefully, I poured the tube onto the earth beside us, dropping like whispers before settling gently into the embrace of Serenity Ridge. I thought about times long ago, when it was Mum, Dad, Blake and I eating breakfast in a country only my father was familiar with. How much time we spent together because we knew no one else. How strong their love was that Mum followed him back to his native land, wanting only what was best for him, only for him to have a stroke less than two years later. Making us a reluctant trio desperately trying to navigate life without him.
And now, I brought my parents here, to spend eternity in the place they found love. Together again.
It felt cyclical and absolute. Exactly as it should be.
We didn’t speak as I resecured the lid and slipped it into my purse. Nor did we speak as I collected my sandals and we walked back towards our accommodation, a little lighter despite my heart feeling sad. And we definitely didn’t speak when I reached for Corbin’s hand and laced our fingers together, his receptive embrace was exactly what I needed, for the second time today.
“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink,” I announced through the open door of our interconnected rooms. “Emotions make me thirsty.”
“Really?” he sounded surprised at my announcement and I laughed.
“Absolutely! We’re at a vineyard, surely the wine is calling your name.” I joked, fluffing my hair one last time in the mirror. “You did great today by the way, even with all the tears,” I said, before he came around the corner and faltered. I felt my own jaw open, sure I resembled a goldfish gulping for air.
“Can you warn a girl first?” With an exaggerated throwing back of my head, I drank in the sight of him. A light linen button down, beige cuffed pants, a black leather bracelet on his wrist.
“Warn you of what?” He asked.
“When you’re going to come out looking casual yet deeply put together. You should work less and get out more. You’d be like a chip surrounded by seagulls.”
“I don’t know how to respond when you say things like that,” he mumbled, opening the door to lead us outside and gesturing for me to pass.
“Say things like what?” I shot him a look of complete innocence, in the mood to push him a little. When he frowned, faltering and unsure what to say, I laughed.
“Just kidding,” I said with a wink. “I’ll try not to make comments about how attractive you are,” I added for good measure and bit my lip to prevent the laugh which wanted to spill when he threw me a half-crept grin.
“But you – urgh – you look good too,” he added as if it were an afterthought.
“Ha. Thanks,” I replied, knowing he said that only because I complimented him. “I think I’m going to need to up my game with you looking like you do though,” I linked my arm through his and he softened, becoming more used to my unexpected touch.
It was something I couldn’t help. Tactile was my comfort and it’d been a while since I had someone with me all the time so I was lapping it up while I could. It helped that Corbin was a lot of what I would usually want when it came to a touch partner. Calm, aware of boundaries, clean and smelling all things masculine. Those woodsy remnants mixed with a smell which was uniquely him were difficult to ignore.
I wiped that thought clear, especially when I was feeling a little hungry - and not of the food variety. The last thing I needed was to make him feel uneasy when my mouth refused to take heed at the fact we were friends.
Friends.
Something I needed to keep at the forefront of all thoughts.
I’d gone for casual tonight, in a short black skirt and an amber, off the shoulder top. It felt natural and seemed to fit the landscape which was perfect as we were planning on staying local as far as I was aware. Which was probably for the best at this point. Being around him was making me crave the weight and press of another so much more and I’d even weakened earlier and downloaded a new app I’d read was good for meeting other singles in the area, but by an act of God, there hadn’t been anyone close enough.
It was only fuelled by my buddy next to me, and I didn’t actually want anyone else, but it had been quite a while. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d been with someone. At least a year, or was it two now? The months were well and truly into the double digits at this point, that I knew for sure, which was making him and his damn pheromones harder to ignore.
