"It's always been that way, it seems

One love begins, one comes undone"

✦

It was Monday night and the rain had subsided, leaving everything damp. I found myself outside the motel Matthew and I stayed at before buying our first place together. Motel 6.

I paid for a room and requested the same one we'd sought hostage in that winter, the first winter where I was his wife. I wonder if the upcoming one would be the last. Or maybe even last year's.

The room was different but mostly the same, the bed spread and some decor having changed but besides that it was the same room.

I sunk into the mattress, those same squeaks wheezing at the slightest pressure. Home.

I counted the cracks in the ceiling. Last time there were two less. Change.

I stopped looking at the ceiling. Disregard.

When the sunrise began I suffocated myself with blankets. It made me think of Harry and happy and so I made made everything black as if to forget color and the ones only butterflies can see.

I felt the same swaddled in fabric as I did without any at all. Lukewarm. Tepid. Room Temperature. Normal. Moderate. Mediocre. Conventional. Comfortable. Not comforting. Grey.

I was wrong before about being grey. Before, I was splotched in storm clouds. But it's no longer a splotch or a disguise, it is me. I am cloud and I am nothing and I am grey. Dull silver.

I was wrong about being May as well. Newland and May ended up together in The Age if Innocence. Matthew and I weren't headed in the same direction, he would end up with his Ellen Olenska. And plus, May did nothing wrong, she was beautiful and deserving of happiness. I changed and I gave Matthew reason to leave. We weren't like the novel what so ever.

Matthew reminded me of what I need to hear with that gold watch. He reminded me that I may have seemed shiny and pretty and nice at first. But once you strike gold, silver isn't all that it once was. In comparison, it is dull.

So no, I don't think he has always been cold. I think he was warm and Melly introduced him to the feeling of fire and heat and flame. I'm not sure which one love is if either are at all.

I slept all of Tuesday and woke up during sunset which I watched through a window. The sun bled out streams of creamsicle orange to mix into pastel blues and it was kind of ugly. Very plain and bland and boring. I favored the sky black.

What was there to do when you were just being? I had nothing to wait for anymore and I didn't know what to do. I had to get out of that room though. When I stepped inside I couldn't escape the song.

You're everything I hope for.

We had played it on repeat the night we married.

You're everything I need.

We danced in silly circles with hands on waists and shoulders, with lips stealing kisses from lips.

You are so beautiful to me.

We woke up in that bed bare and wrapped in one another's limbs, smooched harder by the sunlight than each other. Matthew looked so happy and so bright and so warm, so sun-kissed. He looked so in love.

We were in love at this Motel 6. Where we lived when getting back on our feet and where we honeymooned. We didn't have money to travel and it was the next best thing. We had each other and Joe Crocker to sing for us and we didn't care because we were happy. We were so in love at this Motel 6.

Not this time though, this time it was only me. Me after I lost everything I hoped for, everything I needed, and everything beautiful to me. I had nothing and I was nothing.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

I was stood outside the house. It was Tuesday night and I needed to grab some necessities to bring back to the motel. The car was gone so I knew Matthew was gone. With Melly.

Going back inside felt like an intrusion on a crime scene. Past the yellow caution tape it was all just death.

There were a couple dishes stacked in the sink and a blanket strewn across the couch. In the bedroom my stained shirt still littered the floor along with the coffee mug and brown splotch of carpet beneath it. The only thing moving in the house was the washing machine, gurgling and spinning around clothes to clean.

I wonder if Matthew and Melly had sex in here, in our house. They did it in his work office so I guess I couldn't put it past them. Well Matthew, I knew next to nothing personal about Melly. I knew her job title, her possible pregnancy, and that she might love my husband. And that she was gold.

Before I left I dropped by the sunroom. Every single plant was dead and wilted and brown.

With a packed bag, I ensued upon my journey back to my hideaway. But there was a curly head of brunette hair sat on the curb I had to pass by first. Harry.

"Hey," he said, his tone emotionless and so un-Harry like.

He was looking up to me, hand under his chin. I was standing a few feet away in the street.

"Hi."

"Where ya headed?" He motioned to the bag hung on my shoulder.

"Away." I'm not sure how long yet.

"How are you?" His lips pursed and his eyebrows quirked as he awaited my reply. He was testing me.

Talk to me. Tell me. "I'm fine."

He shook his head and stood up. Then he turned around and went inside his house. I bet Rose was inside and I bet she made him happy. Her happy Harry.

I went back to my house to grab a sticky note. After jotting down a quick message, I stuck it onto Harry's mailbox and left.

Silver.

I don't know what my exact motive was behind the sticky note method of communication. I remembered how he had used one the stormy night I changed clothes in his upstairs bathroom. He used one to tell me to come downstairs cause he didn't want to wait outside and seem like a creep. I don't even have an excuse.

Once I got back to the motel, I threw my bag onto the bed and walked right back out. I had no where to go and no one to be with. No one to be.

I didn't like being in that motel room either. I could still smell Matthew's old aftershave when I brushed my teeth in the bathroom. I could still hear him curse profanities when I opened up the particular drawer you had to wrestle with to unstick. I could still feel him press open mouthed kisses against my face when I woke up. He'd always wake me up so that he could tell me I love you before he left for work. I couldn't hear that though.

I love you. I remembered every sound that tumbled from his mouth besides that assortment. I knew he said it and he said it a lot, but I couldn't remember the way his teeth and tongue and gums articulated the words the way he did.

I'm not sure I'd ever get the chance to hear it another time. But if I did, I would carve the sound waves into my ear canals so I could never make the mistake of forgetting again.

My mindless pursuing took me to the cemetery. When I stepped through the fence and entered the poorly lit graveyard, a bench caught my attention, well rather the woman on it. The no-name lady.

I strolled up to her and her eye bags and cheeks were still heavy and drooping. I looked more like her this time.

"I didn't expect to see you again," I said.

"I'm not surprised," she shrugged. "We're both here regularly, hm?"

I nodded slowly and sat next to her. "I didn't go to the funeral."

"Whose funeral?"

"The person buried here," Leonora Papilio, "I actually hadn't seen the grave up close till the day I met you," I explained for some unknown reason.

"Why didn't you go?"

I thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. My husband and I both got dressed and ready but I couldn't get out of the car. I saw the casket get carried to the gravesite, but I just—I couldn't get out. Then we drove away and that was that."

"Were you very close to this person?"

"No, not at all. But, um, I'm sorry, you don't have to entertain me," I apologized, moving to stand on my feet.

She reached out and grabbed my hand gently in hers. "It's okay, I've got nothin' better to do anyways besides stare at a grave," she laughed cynically and it was all wheeze and mushy cheeks. "Now, tell me about her."

I sat down again, my knees pulled to my chest. "Well... I haven't seen her since I was 15. I don't know anything about who she was for the seven years before she died."

"Tell me about her when you did know her then."

I closed my eyes and tried to piece trivial memories together to describe her, but all I could see was Matthew in that deep black ink. "I... I don't know what to tell you besides how I wouldn't have met my husband if it weren't for her. I wouldn't have fallen in love with him."

It's odd how tragedy can be the reason two things come together and also be the reasons they fall apart.

"Did she introduce you two?"

"No," I quickly shot out, almost wanting to laugh. "Matthew and I met when I was 16."

She pursed her thin lips. "But, she passed away recently, yes?"

"Couple months ago," I confirmed.

"Hm," she nodded, contemplating information. "And when she passed, you didn't lose her?" She had remembered what I said.

"She wasn't there to lose."

She laid her hand across mine, giving it a light squeeze of support. The comfort went straight through my body and into the air. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

"Why don't we go to the grave," she suggested in her fragile tone, acting as if she was my therapist.

"No." No, no, no.

"Okay."

It was settled then. So we just stayed there looking at dead grass and dry dirt poured over rotting skeletons for however long. Her seeking the warmth of her buried companion and me seeking the answers to questions I never got to ask Leonora Papilio.

She eventually broke the silence. "Would you like some tea? I think I'm gonna head home, you can come if you'd like."

I had no where to be and no one to be with. "Okay."

I followed her steps as she began walking to her home.

"Thank you," I said and meant it earnestly despite how robotic it sounded. Everything I said did now.

She smiled and we walked the rest of the way in a quietude filled by the hush of night.

When we turned on a specific street, I immediately tensed but she didn't notice. And then when we approached a building that was too, too familiar I froze altogether.

She realized I stopped moving once she was about to enter it. "What's wrong?"

I ignored her and glued my eyes to the gritty, cream composition of a place I used to call home. Matthew and I had rented an apartment here.

"What apartment number are you?" I inquired, continuing my analyzation on the run down building.

"2a."

"I, um, I used to live here. In 2b actually," I gulped. I hadn't been here for years.

"Oh, that one's vacant right now if you wanna take a peek," she said as if it was a simple harmless statement. Which it kind of was. Kind of wasn't.

"Okay."

"Well come on, dear."

This time I went with her. When we entered the lobby I had to remind myself how to walk and to keep breathing. Everything here was the same, however the way the air settled on me and every object was different and I couldn't figure out how.

We entered her place first. It was a studio apartment like our's had been but the layout was rearranged.

"You're blinking a lot," she commented as we stood in the kitchen and she set up the kettle on the stove. I was leaning against the counter a couple of feet away, the small space not allowing for much.

"I've got dry eyes," I exhaled.

"Why's that?" Why, why, why.

"I just do," I replied and not in a snarky manner. My voice was always monotone.

"Alright. What kind of tea do you drink?"

"I don't like tea."

She pursed her lips and slid off her thick jacket, hanging it on a coatrack. I kept my sweatshirt on.

"I've got coffee and hot chocolate," she offered with a questioning lilt.

"Leonora Papilio used to make me hot chocolate," I revealed, remembering something about the version of her I knew. "All year round. It was a comfort food of some sort."

"Do you want some now then?"

"No." No, no, no. "Could I actually have a black coffee, please?"

"Decaf?"

"No."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "It's almost midnight."

"I know."

She blew a raspberry and began making the coffee, not accepting my offer of help. Once she finished, we both drank our drinks of choice without a word. She slurped slowly on her mug whereas I chugged the bitter liquid of mine down. I hated the taste but I needed the energy.

"I'm gonna go," I said, standing up from her couch. Her mug on the coffee table wasn't even half empty.

"Be safe, dear."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

It was four a.m. and I was still in the apartment Matthew and I once shared. Like the motel, I hated being in it but simultaneously relished in the familiarity I'd lost else where.

There was no furniture, just cabinets and counters and flooring. Other than that it was just a medium sized room. I missed it. But I hated it.

It wasn't home anymore but I knew what it had sounded and smelt and felt like when it had been.

I could still smell the aroma of chicken soup soak the apartment when Matthew would baby me due to a mere runny nose. I could still hear him stifle a giggle when he caught me stumble against that one loose floorboard. I could still feel him press his warm chest against my back when I'd look out from the balcony at the dingy streets like I was marveling at mars. Happy.

He would whisper I love you's into my neck as he nipped at the skin there and I could feel each little bite but not the pronunciation of words that always ensued.

There was no heater running in the empty room. It was still tepid though. I preferred it to be warm. I preferred it to come with my Matt. My heater. Matt and Ev. Matt and Melly. Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.

I laid there for hours in the middle of the room on the floor, out on the balcony, and even on the counters. I curled my body up tight, trying to catch any scrap of home and hide it against my chest. Maybe if I nurtured it long enough it'd give me a taste of warmth. Maybe it could grow roots and I could find warmth within myself.

It didn't. Everything was room temperature and it felt like I was trapped inside an oven that wasn't turned on. Or a freezer. There was no way of telling with no breeze. There's only the constant anticipation of hot or cold, but nevertheless it stays simply comfortable. Which is not comforting when you're used to extremes.

I even tried to sleep but I couldn't. Every time my eyes closed I couldn't stop my brain from curating long forgotten memories made in this shabby apartment. It was like a blooper reel inside my head, flashes of silly moments that once my teeth gleam in a smile and now made them grit in pain. They were supposed to be cut from the final product, forgotten and discarded, but instead they plagued my mind. They always did play right before the credits though. The end, the end, the end. Tick. Tock.

I didn't have anything to do or anyone to be with. What do you do when you're just being? I missed waiting.

I ended up out front of the two story suburban house that hadn't been home for a while. We had made an offer as soon as we had toured it because we absolutely adored it. But now I hated it.

It's one thing for a home to stop being a home because you moved out of it. It's another when the contract runs out while you still live there and your brain is sending you eviction notices. You feel as though you've been forcibly removed from the place and being in the house is a crime. Emotions are so much more powerful than legal jurisdiction.

The driveway was empty; Matthew wasn't here. I knew where he was staying. Matt and Melly. Matt and Melly.

The sticky note I had left on Harry's mailbox was gone and on my own was a neon green one. He had written why?

I went inside my house to grab a sticky note so I could reply. For some reason I felt the need to tip toe around as if to avoid disturbing the dormancy of the place.

The slips of paper were in Matthew's office. It had to be his favorite room. It was my least favorite after our bedroom and maybe the garage.

His briefcase was rested behind his desk against the wall in the back corner. He carried it around carefully, somewhat tantalizingly. Part of me wanted to know what was inside but a larger part respected his privacy so I left it alone.

Jotting down my answer to Harry's why? with a red pen, I plastered the blue sticky note to his mailbox.

Because I came in second place.

⇢ ⇢ ⇢

I've been posting chapters as soon

as they're ready as opposed to sticking

to a schedule since my inspiration is

all over of the place. I find that I write

the best and most when I'm sad so I'm

not sure it's exactly a good thing that

I'm busting them out lmao

peace out ☺