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Alek sat in a dark navy lounge chair the color of a starlit sky. His laptop lay open in front of him at a compact captain’s desk made of burl wood and centuries of adventure.
Looking at his life now, it was hard to believe that he’d fallen from the window only a year before. He and Ian married five months ago, on the longest night of the year. Winter Solstice. Alek had originally wanted the wedding to take place in the greenhouse—as far as venues went, it was the obvious choice—but Ian vetoed,fearing it was bad luck, which was adorable because Ian was not superstitious, at all. Instead, they married in the library, beneath the glow of the full moon shining through the skylight. They were the only ones there, which was exactly how Alek wanted it.
An official wedding had been held at the courthouse earlier that day. Ian’s mom, Dr. Modorovic, and Dr. Dhawan had attended—Oh, and Briar, freshly busted from Alder House. But that was boring bureaucratic nonsense as far as Alek was concerned. The real wedding was the private moment he and Ian shared, the secret vows that were passed between them with the Victorian their only witness.
Alek had wanted to marry Ian for so long he’d feared reality wouldn’t meet his expectations, that because he no longer needed Ian’s validation via matrimony their nuptials would be an anticlimax, but he’d been wrong. Becoming Alek Stewart, to claim Ian’s surname instead of a fake one… It was the truest form of love Alek had ever experienced.
After two months of newly-wedded fucking, Ian returned to work part-time. Alek took on occasional pet projects, but wasn’t willing to risk his wrists toiling away over someone else’s antiques. He’d continued his study at the piano, but in careful moderation now. Nothing else had come back, and that was sad, but it was okay. Really.
His therapy with Dr. Dhawan continued, despite her frequent attempts to transfer him to an actual therapist. While Alek had made psychological strides, he still had a hard time opening up to those beyond his trusted circle, which was really a triangle made up of Dr. Dhawan, Ian, and himself. Ideally, Alek would graduate from therapy before Dr. Dhawan grew too busy for him.
Even then, he’d likely still see Dr. Dhawan for a while. She’d already adjusted his medication regimen twice; first discontinuingthe antipsychotic as promised, and then increasing the antidepressant when Alek had started feeling tired all the time, which was one of the warning signs they’d identified for a return of his depression. If more adjustments were required, Alek wouldn’t despair. He understood now that sometimes his medications would require tweaking, but it didn’t mean he, or the medications had failed.
The droning hum of Ian’s truck slowly rose over the sound of the forest settling in for the night—rain drops dripping on leaves, branches creaking as birds found their nests in the trees. Alek shut his laptop and went to the window. He liked to watch Ian like this, when he thought he was alone, when he was his most honest self, and that might sound a little stalkery, a little crazy, but Alek was a little crazy, or at least formerly crazy, and even if he hadn’t had that bout of insanity, the feelings he had for Ian were so intoxicating, it would have made him crazy anyway.
When the truck parked and Ian stepped out, long-legged, broad-shouldered, as strong and reliable as the ocean tides, he lifted his eyes to the third story tower and met Alek’s gaze without searching, like he knew he’d been watching. Alek’s pulse stuttered at the contact, the connection between them like a slack cord pulled tight.
“I’ll come down,” Alek called.
“I’ll come up,” Ian answered.
“I’ll meet you in the middle,” was Alek’s reply over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs.
They embraced at the second-story landing and when Ian kissed him, entire forests grew inside his head. Time slowed in that way it did, in that safe place where only the two of them lived, and when they finally parted, they both were breathing fast.
Ian palmed Alek’s cheek. “Are we celebrating?” His dark eyes were wide, searching for Alek’s answer.
Alek leaned into Ian’s hand. “Yes.”
Ian stilled, but it was like the silence before an explosion. “Really, love?”
Alek nodded. “The Rose Foundation for Mental Health will break ground next summer.”
Ian squeezed Alek up into a hug that lifted him off his feet. “Oh, Alek. I’m so proud of you.”
Alek had never left flowers at his mother’s grave. He never even knew if she was in the family plot that her headstone was placed atop, the one his own empty coffin had been buried next to. But that didn’t matter, because though he’d never felt her love, he could love her now in this way.
Dr. Dhawan had planted the seed. Mental health treatment was lacking, especially for those who could not afford it. There wasn’t enough funding or facilities. First Alek had considered turning his Big Sur property into a subsidized mental health treatment center for those who could not pay their way, but that was thinking too small. That’s not to say he wasn’t going to do that; he just wasn’t going to doonlythat.
The widest reach, the longest impact, would be achieved by starting a nonprofit with a board of directors made up primarily of mental health professionals that worked in concert with other established advocacy groups. Alek sold off the olive leaf crown and cashed out a few long-term investments to kickstart the project. From there he’d courted benefactors with deep pockets and a vested interest in mental health reform.
The nonprofit would focus on political advocacy for foundational changes to the mental health treatment system on a nationwide level. It would be a long road and there was much work to do, and Alek wouldn’t necessarily do most of it—securing donations and maintaining cash flow was more in hiswheelhouse—but it would be an honor to his mother, a sign of respect.
With time, and months more of therapy, Alek had forgiven his mother. Her fate was what his would have been if he didn’t have Ian. She wasn’t a bad person. She wasn’t cruel. She was depressed, and alone, and scared, and Alek wished he could have saved her, but he couldn’t, so he would do what he could to help people like her.
The next morningAlek woke to the heady scent of wisteria drifting in through the window. He didn’t need to look outside to know that the wisteria had bloomed for the first time since he fell, and he didn’t need to go to the piano to confirm that the fresh scent was like a wave of a magic wand, a curse lifted.
He knew because the oppressive silence inside his mind was replaced with the familiar unending musical score that played the soundtrack to his every thought. The faint rain drops that bounced off the leaves were notes played, and Ian’s steady breathing was wind blowing through evergreen treetops, and all of it—every sound he could hear—it all blended harmoniously with the beating of his heart.
Everything came back all at once but in order, too. It started with his first memory of the piano, his first memory ever—the scent of climbing wisteria, the scrape of the bench over the parquet floor, the weight of hisfather’sarm against his own, his father’s hands flying over black and white keys, and the music he made, each note that he played were like fireflies blinking in the dark.
Decades of Alek’s own compositions reappeared like a cloak had been dropped, like the music that had once been knit into his fingertips and was severed by the fall, had been slowlystitching back together this entire time, and the final stitch had been sewn.
Alek crept out of bed and left the room without waking Ian. He didn’t need Ian there with him.
Music made him brave.
He went to his piano and he sat on the bench and he lifted his hands over the keys and he played. The song that came said thank you. It said sorry and it said love and it said a thousand other things that really meant forgiveness.
The wisteria’s first bloom after Alek’s fall and the dark months that followed was like a rebirth, a phoenix rising from the ashes, a vow that whatever challenges Alek had faced, whatever sorrow he’d suffered, whatever might come next, life would go on, and Alek along with it.
The End.
