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“You’re safe with me, Malachi,” she said, reading my thoughts, “Stop trying to fight it. Fightme. I have no vendetta. I have no weapons. I have nothing. You’ve made it exceptionally clear that you’re uninterested in anything platonic and, as hard as it is for me to refrain, I can.I will. But, I won’t stop feeding the good parts of you and trying to bring them to the surface, because my head and my heart won’t let me.”
Words failed me, making me feel as foolish as I looked.
“Some things are just out of my control,” she finalized.
Aeir lowered her finger and resumed working on emptying the truck, giving me time to process her words. Blindly, I headed toward the suite that she’d been working sun up, sun down to flip. Two days ago, it resembled nothing like the space I walked into with bags dangling from my arms.
I took three trips from the truck into the house before everything was inside, along with Aeir. I took a look around at all the things she’d purchased. My limbs tingled as blood rushed through my body, making my head spin.
She reminds me so much of her,I admitted, watching as Aeir removed items, one by one, from the bags without much of a care in the world. Taking a closer look at the things she’d picked up while out, I noticed they resembled things I’d seen in my old home, viewed on Pinterest boards during late night peeks at my wife’s computer screen, and while out together.
“Aren’t these cute?” She held up a pair of gold earrings, putting them to her ear to give me the full picture. Nodding, I answered her question.
“I used to dream of owning a jewelry line. An affordable one for women who crave a classic hoop or anklet or ring. All gold. Everything would’ve been gold. I love gold. There’s something about wearing a nice piece of jewelry that makes me feel like a woman. It enhances my femininity. It just feels… I don’t know. Just–”
“Why’d you stop dreaming?”
“Reality hit. And it hit hard.”
My piqued interest was alarming as it was welcomed. The guilt that paired with me almost made me follow up with something damning, but I remembered her words and her request. She didn’t want to fight. And as hard as it was not to, I didn’t want to, either. It was easier, though, to not care and push, push, push everyone away. It felt better that way. I felt better that way.
“How?”
“Two years ago, on the way home from a teacher’s conference that ran over a lot longer than it should’ve, I was hit head on by a drunk driver. According to my medical team, I died three times that night. They didn’t think I’d make it till morning, but I did. Around twelve was the last time I flatlined.
“They’d given up, prepared to tell my parents the news, but as my best friend stayed behind, crying over me, scared to touch my swollen body, my heart began beating again. That wasn’t the end of my fight. For two years, I remained in a coma. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I woke up. My body had completely healed itself. There were no signs of the injuries I’d suffered.
“Everything worked perfectly. I didn’t understand and still don’t understand. The night I was released from the hospital, I laid in bed wondering what was next. I felt like my life had gotten a brand new start. I didn’t feel like the old me. I felt like something, someone completely different so I craved different. Berkeley was first on my list of to-dos.
“Knowing I still wanted to be an educator, I searched HomeEdu and that’s how I found your listing. Days later and I showed up here. So, that little business I wanted to start, in addition to being the best educator Channing had ever seen, it had to be put on pause.”
Listening to her story left me in a dark place, but I quickly pulled myself out to be present for her in the moment. What I had to say couldn’t wait.
“Press play, Aeir.”
“Hmm?” she asked, unsure of what I meant.
“Press play. Life is too unpredictable to hold on to any dream you have. Don’t act later… act now. Press play, Aeir.”
“I know. Those two years passed me by. Life kept going and I was just… still.”
“Me, too.” My intentions weren’t to say it out loud, but the words still came from my mouth.
“Why?”
“Reality hit. And it hit hard.” I repeated her lines.
“How?”
“My wife, Anna, passed away two years ago,” I shared, standing to my feet, feeling my world as it began to spin. My time in her space had come to an end and I needed to escape before she continued to suck me into her web.
“When?” she yelled, raising her voice a few notches. I turned toward her, taken aback by the desperation in her tone.
“April 18th.”
I watched as her brows furrowed and her eyes shifted toward the ground. Her shoulders slouched while silence combed through the suite. I used it as my chance to free myself.
“The night of my accident,” she whimpered lowly, deepening my confusion. “Oh God. It makes sense.”
