by Lola Gabriel
That wasn’t on his mind then, however. Sebastian walked through the gallery, taking in each work of art studiously and with immense interest. He paused at each one, noting the different colors on each canvas, trying to find a name to each hue displayed. It was not a usual thing he did when observing art, but rather a practice he had when he was upset and desperately needed to distract his mind. Yet, like the angry little hornets they were, his father’s words periodically stung as they bounced around in his mind.
“Tell me, Sebastian, did Julius take your family jewels with him in the fall of Rome?”
He remembered that one bitterly. Lucia hadn’t been alive during the era of Caesar, as that had been five hundred years before her time. He wished Lucia would have been alive during the glory days of the Roman Empire, but she was born shortly after the fall of Rome. She didn’t have a long life, and died quite young. Why would a father remember when his eldest son’s soulmate had died? That would be absurd—according to Carlyle, getting “romantic” over dates and anniversaries were considered as signs of weakness. In fact, any expressed emotion other than anger was a sign of weakness to Carlyle. It was why Theo and Eden appeared to be the apples of his eyes.
The gallery wasn’t working its usual magic on Sebastian’s disposition. He found his thoughts quickly derailing back to his father, causing his nostrils to flare and a light perspiration to break out over his forehead. Perhaps it was the lack of people in the gallery that afternoon. He needed to find somewhere soothing yet populated to keep any feelings of outburst at bay.
Skipping the last exhibit area, Sebastian hastily found his way to the nearest exit. Instantly, the loud ambient commotion of the city and crowds weighed heavily on his anxiety. Once again, he focused on drawing in deep breaths and letting them out slowly in an attempt to find the slightest sense of ease. His eyes shifting nervously, Sebastian tried to go along with the current of the bustling people, but even their quickened strides proved to be to slow for the ticking time bomb that was Sebastian Tallant. He began weaving in and out of the tight spaces between patrons, murmuring apologies under his breath every time he grazed shoulders with another anonymous face in the crowd.
In his current heightened state of anxiety, Sebastian’s mind tortured itself with the thought of Lucia. The more he tried to fight the incessant memories off, the more they slipped through the cracks of the mental barrier he was attempting to uphold and keep stable. How was it that even fifteen hundred years later, his heart could still feel the earth-shattering ache for her? Sebastian had never become numb to it. Yes, he managed to live as normal of a life as someone such as himself could, but it wasn’t because he had healed. He forced himself to forget about Lucia, to block the memory of her from his thoughts almost completely. Of course, Carlyle had to mention her. Anything to remind Sebastian just how weak he was, and just how strong his father had remained. Did Carlyle even mourn over his belated wife? Anger flared in his chest as two ice cold, prickly words crossed his mind.
Absolutely not.
2
It felt like a layer of oil and grime had melted off Winter when she finally managed to shower that afternoon. Even though she was generally a very hygienic and cleanly person, things had been so hectic for her lately that she couldn’t remember the last time she had showered. And after the breakfast shift at the restaurant and an early afternoon class, Winter was overwhelmingly aware of her sticky skin and oily hair.
As she towel-dried her short curls, Winter took in the sight of herself in the mirror. Her olive skin was soft and blemish-free for the first time in weeks, and she noticed her hair had actually grown a bit since the last time she had really looked at it. Usually, Winter was defeated by her wild hair and wrangled it into a small bun at the base of her neck. Working full-time while going to school had her always on the move, so moments to herself were rare. In a way, Winter felt like she was looking at an entirely different person. She had become a stranger to herself.
Her cell phone began to buzz on the bathroom counter, ripping her from the trance. She didn’t need to look at her screen to know who it was.
“Hey, Corey,” she greeted as she moved into the living room.
“Well, glad to know you’re alive,” he snarked.
She rolled her eyes, even though he wasn’t there to see it. “You know how busy I am.”
“So busy that you haven’t had the chance to see your best friend in a month?”
“Are you going to pay my rent or earn my degree for me?” she challenged.
“You mean to tell me that you’ve been in class, at work, or asleep for every moment of every day for a full month?”
“Of course not,” she defended. “However, when I haven’t been doing one of those things, I’ve been studying and doing homework. So yeah, I’ve been busy. Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?” Corey let out the same whiny groan that she had heard for eight years.
“Becaaaaaause I miss you. Who else puts up with me, I mean, really?” When Winter’s only response was a sigh, Corey pressed further. “Come on! I want to catch up, gossip, bitch about men—the whole nine yards. What are you doing right now?”
Winter stared down at the textbooks, lavender incense, loose leaf tea, and the oversized blanket she had crocheted in high school; all of it was perfectly set up and waiting for her to begin her study session. All her upcoming assignments were listed off in her mind. Winter had always been a good student, but it only magnified when she entered college and began paying for her education. If she was going so far into debt to get a piece of paper to hang on her wall, then she was going to make sure she got her money’s worth. Her immediate reaction had been to say no, that she had far too much to do, but then Corey’s words began playing back to her. He hadn’t just been whiny, he had been sincere and truly missed his friend. Besides that, Winter was already all caught up on her assignments; she had just planned to go over the material again to ensure she knew it.
Earlier thoughts of her never having any time to herself came back to her. Perhaps some time with Corey would act as much needed stress relief. “Okay, okay. If you’re free now, we can do a late lunch.”
“Oh, my god, you actually agreed. Perfect! Meet me at the café in twenty minutes?”
She could hear the tamed excitement in his tone, and a faint smile spread across her face. “Yeah, see you there.”
Through the open bathroom door, Winter took in her reflection once more. Black leggings, a slate gray sweater that was a size or two too big, and striped knee-high socks, which were mostly covered by her leggings. It was rather cold outside, but Winter honestly couldn’t be bothered to put jeans on. She pulled on her tennis shoes, coat, and beanie before snatching up her small handbag and heading out.
Winter took her usual path to hers and Corey’s usual spot. She had grown bored of their routine during the summers, when she only had work to worry about. So many cool and sunny mornings they met at Corey’s favorite café and ordered the same things, walked to the same shops after. Right then, however, it was refreshing and as comforting as hot soup on a chilly winter day. Relaxing, safe, and almost nostalgic. As sweet as the memories of her time with Corey were, though, not even they served as a full escape from the stress of life. Interlaced with her reminiscing were small ripples of anxiety over her upcoming deadlines, midterms, and trying to remember if she had a clean uniform for her shift in the morning.
Corey was standing on the sidewalk outside of the café and hollered, “Winifred!” as soon as he spotted her and pulled her into an embrace.
Winter couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the nickname. Typically, he reserved calling her that for when he was mockingly stern with her, like a mother who called her son “Samuel” instead of just “Sam” when he was in trouble. Since she didn’t have a nickname like that, Corey decided to don her with the “proper version” of Winter.
“It’s good to see you,” she replied warmly, giving him a squeeze.
“It’s felt like
years since the last I saw you. I see you’re growing the pixie-slash- out,” he mentioned, springing one of her curls as he trailed her path into the café.
“I guess so,” she answered with a shrug. Winter had kept her curls at the same length and style for years. She felt it suited her personality when she wasn’t under a mountain of stress: playful and sweet. Now it was creeping past her chin. When was the last time she had gone for a haircut? How had the realization that she had to start tying back her hair not motivated her to make the time even for a haircut? Brushing the thought away, she and Corey sat at a table on the garden section out back as they always did. Once they placed their food orders, they both put their folded arms on the table and examined one another with mock intensity. They chuckled and relaxed.
“Sorry if it feels like I dragged you away from stuff,” Corey apologized. “It’s just been too long, and honestly, you need a break.”
With how she was feeling that afternoon, Winter couldn’t argue that. “You definitely didn’t drag me out. Thank you for pushing me to, though. I just get so focused and I—” Corey placed a gentle hand on top of her arm, giving a supportive squeeze.
“Don’t apologize for being driven. It’s admirable. I wish I had the passion that you did. And for something so noble?” he scoffed. “Almost all education majors I meet are dead inside by year two.”
Winter gave a modest shrug. “I know what makes me happy, and I want to do it. I don’t want to take food orders forever, you know?”
“You’ll be making about the same amount as a public school teacher,” Corey teased.
“Money doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “All I care about is doing something I like. I’ll live within the means that I have to.”
Corey’s face pulled into an impressed expression. “Fair enough. You know, maybe you should have been a public speaker. Life coach. Something like that.”
“I’ll stick with kiddos, thanks,” Winter laughed, waving off the idea of working with adults. Adults were harder to get through to in a lot of ways, mostly because they already had their own perceptions and their way of how they thought the world worked. They would refute the ideas you proposed because it conflicted with their own beliefs. Kids were at a stage of gathering data and experiences to form those views. Winter wanted to help them in a nurturing and supportive way—one where they wouldn’t shun the thought of new ideas but welcome them. She didn’t want the entire lunch to be about her, however, and tried to redirect the conversation to Corey. “How are things with Isaac?”
“Oh, that was over like three weeks ago. He was kind of a prick. Now we’re all about Gregory. No, not Greg. Gregory.”
Winter giggled at Corey’s persistence to make people he liked or cared about sound as elegant as possible. It was an adorable little quirk he had. Though his silliness with such nicknames had gotten him in trouble a time or two, when he called a man he was seeing by a name that wasn’t quite the right one. “Ooh, Gregory, hm? Tell me about him and how you met.”
“Honey, when was the last time I met anyone that wasn’t through that damn dating app?” he huffed. It wasn’t out of annoyance with Winter, but with the dating world. This topic was something they agreed on. Dating apps were shallow, what with deciding on who you wanted to talk to based off their looks and a couple of more-than-likely ill prepared sentences. Not to mention how unbelievably nerve-wracking it was to make the initial meet up with that person: essentially a stranger who knew you yet had never actually been around you. It was an uncomfortable thought that bothered Winter and Corey. However, despite his feelings of uneasiness, Corey had gotten over his hurdles with the premise. Winter hadn’t been able to come around to the idea and didn’t see it in her future.
“Well, we matched on the app, and girl, he is so damn hot. He’s a businessman and dresses so well. Clean cut suits, that cute little business pompadour, blond hair, blue eyes. Oh, and a permanent five o’clock shadow that fits him perfectly. Granted, he is a bit older.” When Winter cocked an inquiring brow, he indulged her. “Thirty-two, okay? Which isn’t bad, but I guess we’ll see how things go.”
She could see the same look of doubt on his face that he always got when it came to older men. Corey was at a stage in his life where he wanted to have fun going into things and see where they eventually would lead to. It was definitely a go-with-the-flow type of mentality. Commitment wasn’t something he was looking for. Generally speaking, people entering their thirties were looking to settle down—and that had been the downfall of many of the recent relationships Corey found himself in.
“Have you tried bumping your age range down on the app?” Winter questioned, sipping the hot tea she had ordered. Corey clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Guys my age are filthy beasts who have the emotional maturity of a brick.” Then he leaned in, as if he were going in to tell her a secret. “They’re still so wrapped up in ‘being a man,’” he emphasized with air quotes, “that they don’t let themselves feel anything but angry, drunk, or horny.”
Winter whispered back in the same low tone, “Drunk isn’t an emotion.”
“Precisely!” he hoarsely breathed with grave seriousness.
After just a few brief moments of silence and intense eye contact, they broke into laughter again. With each genuine smile and giggle, Winter could feel herself becoming less tense in her shoulders and relaxing her posture. Being with Corey was like stepping back in time, when all they had to worry about were the usual hardships of going through puberty and trying to determine what boy they thought liked them. Corey had a natural energy to him that pulled you into his world: a carefree paradise where there would always be a better opportunity if one fell through, like your own personal prince charming who was just around the corner after a tough breakup, and every day was cheat day.
They continued chatting away, mostly with Corey catching Winter up on all of his recent escapades. They were lively and engaging stories, embellished with Corey taking the liberty of acting out the funniest bits. Winter was enjoying a meal for the first time in God knew how long. Lately, she had been settling for protein bars and cereal. Overall, it was turning out to be just what she needed.
“You know,” Corey began, his pitch higher as he branded a devilish smirk, “you have gone so long without talking, I’m starting to think you met a man.”
Winter lightly jerked her head back and snorted with amusement. “That’s not something I need in my life right now.”
“Companionship and sex are things one’s life does not need?” he mused sarcastically. She averted her eyes then, finding herself not exactly fond of the condescending look coming over his face. “Hey, all I am saying is that while you may not need it in the sense that you can live without it, it’s good for you. Good for everyone. Helps you be a more understanding and loving person. Affection is good for mental health.”
“I think I’m plenty understanding on my own, Corey,” Winter said with a polite yet dismissing tone. She didn’t want to talk about relationships with him, at least not in reference to herself. She wasn’t sure why, but he was obsessed with the notion of her being alone. That she needed to have sex, and she needed to “live a little.” With the pile of work and bills she had, Winter would say she was living plenty.
“Yeah, you’re a very understanding person right now. Nothing tries your morals, patience, and willingness to understand like a relationship does. How can you possibly know the limits of your understanding unless they’ve been put through the nine damn circles of hell?”
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Winter sighed.
“How do you think those sweet old couples who have been married for sixty years and are still in love managed to make it? They were there for one another during the good and the bad. When they reached those few moments in life when divorce was on the table because it felt ‘too hard’ to work things out, they learned to take the time to sit down and listen to one another. They learn, unlike the rest of us, to stop b
eing so stubborn. They understand that life doesn’t happen through just your view, and it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.”
“Okay, a relationship might build my people skills with listening and communicating. I feel like that’s a given. Why do I need to further complicate my life when I hardly have time to cook a meal or clean my apartment?”
“You’re coiling up in this little shell, Winifred,” Corey sighed.
“I’m not in a shell; I’m busy.” Any ounce of lightheartedness drained from his face, and a look of concern sculpted his pale features.
“Winter, what I’m about to say is in no way trying to take away from the accomplishments you have made in the last two years…” He drifted off, licking the corners of his lips as he debated his next words. “You’re not the only person I know that works full-time and goes to school. They have social lives and relationships. You have a busy schedule, but you’re doing too much. You don’t need to study for five hours every single day and pick up extra shifts at the restaurant when you know you haven’t slept but a few hours in days. You need some balance. I’m, like, actually concerned about you at this point.”
Winter’s heart tugged, feeling the emotion radiating off him. She had no idea that the distance between them had been getting so bad that he was starting to be concerned for her well-being. The behavior he noted wasn’t like her, sure, but she wasn’t depressed. If anything, she was anxious. Now it was Winter’s turn to reach across the small patio table and give Corey’s hand a squeeze.
“Corey, I promise you, I’m fine. Even though some days are harder than others, I’m happy with where I am right now. I know I need to be more social, and I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot this afternoon. I’ll work on it, but that doesn’t mean I need a boyfriend. Besides, I thought you were my boyfriend.”