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“I’m glad, because if it hadn’t happened, I would never have asked Ben stay that night.” I shrug and he closes his eyes.
“Are you okay, Mik?” He huffs and I sniffle.
When did I start crying again?
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Maxfellasleepoveran hour ago and his soft snores punctuate the air around us. Sephy glances over to me as she gets to her feet, piling up plates on the table and reaching for the empty glasses.
“Let me.” I push to my feet and pick up the glasses and the empty bottle, making my way to the kitchen quietly. Sephy follows.
Under the bright light of the kitchen we move as a team, washing and drying plates and glasses after sorting leftovers into plastic containers and putting them in the fridge. For a while theres nothing but the clatter of plates and the soft sounds of water and quiet breathing. We move slowly - taking our time, lost in our thoughts - until Sephy speaks.
“So, Max says you’re a writer?” Her voice has a soft lilt that lifts at the end of each sentence.
“He shouldn’t say that,” I laugh. “I’ve never written anything to completion. I just keep notebooks with silly ideas.”
Sephy chuckles as she reaches into the cupboard under the breakfast bar and slides the plates away. “Don’t undersell yourself, Mikaela. There are plenty of people out there to do that for you.”
I grin, watching her move around the space, taking items from me as I dry them and slotting them into their various homes.
“Are you working on anything at the moment?”
I nod as I bite my lip. I haven’t even told Max about my newest project, it all feels too fresh and too new. I only started it a week ago but even now, as I stand talking to a relative stranger, names and faces and stories scratch at the surface of my mind - itching to be brought to life. It’s the most excited I’ve been to sit and write in a long time.
“It’s new and probably won’t turn into anything.” I shrug.
“But?” She prompts me with a nudge of her hip.
“But I’m excited about it,” I admit.
“Tell me about it.” Sephy perches on the counter and gestures for me to do the same.
“It’s historical romance - World War Two - and it tells the story of a soldier and a nurse.” I feel myself coming to life as I think about the characters that had come to life under my fingertips this past week. “They’ve got the world against them but somehow it works. Somehow they keep finding each other, even through all their pain and suffering, and I just - I haven’t been this excited to write something since…” I stop talking, my hands going clammy and my chest squeezing to the point of pain.
Sephy nods solemnly as she eyes me and suddenly her gaze feels sharp, it feels seeing.
“Mikaela.” She speaks softly. “You can tell me to shut up if I’m wrong, but I work with a lot of women who have gone through…” She sighs as she looks at me. “Mikaela, I think they’re a little like you.”
I swallow as she looks at me. There’s a knowledge in her dark eyes that doesn’t feel pitying, or judgemental. It just feels aware. And awareness is terrifying.
“It’s okay.” She smiles softly as my hands tremble and I knot them together on my lap. “I’m not going to ask about it, or talk about who he was, but something about the way you spoke about Josh - it just struck me as being almost familiar or expected to you - and I just want you to know that it’s okay. And I’m not going to tell Max anything, I love my brother but he doesn’t handle these things well. But, you should know how incredible you are for surviving it - if I am right - for finding something outside of it. Okay?”
Staring at this woman who knows far more about me than I have ever shared, I feel my fear shrinking a little. I nod as I take a deep breath.
“I haven’t felt this excited to write something since Matthew.” Saying it is cathartic.
Sephy nods and smiles and I feel a little less alone in the truth of it all.
