Sol

by Apolonia Ambrosius

  The instances when her relationship to the three girls wasn't forced were living in such a minority category there could not even be a label for it. The joyful moments of extreme rarity occurred in a flash, and they went away to the darkness with the same speed, predictability, and loyalty as they came. Perhaps, there could be many more to come or experience, however with the mentality Sol was suddenly graced with, she could no longer see the external laughter as something of genuine nature.

  And at that time, in the coffee shop, when the shining sun lighted her whole being, exposing everything as it was meant to be from the very beginning, the concept of friendship died. She wanted friends more than anything, but the fakery that came with it so easily, made it difficult to truly relate to anyone on the personal level. Like real friends should.

  As she walked down the sunbathed streets, without a goal or desire, she recalled the New Year’s Eve filled with pain but also carefree state of mind. However, for some unknown reason, the image of Min and the boy was hard to recollect back together. There were only fragments, of how their features supposedly looked like, all of which could be completely wrong.

  In Sol’s heart, they were still very much alive and kicking, but the images were exactly the same as her spent time with Haven, faded and unreliable. It was like her memory was gradually becoming worse by the passing second and not by the day, like it was the case for every human being. It seemed, as if everything was buried so far in the past, she might as well read it somewhere or dreamed about it on a cold night.

  Intangible memories were no longer real, no longer with her right here, wandering trough streets to sort her mind into right direction. However, something interesting took place. Even if the shapes of Min’s, the boy’s or other people’s faces turned into dim outlines, unworthy of recalling, the deep feeling persisted in her beating heart. This little response she got, while trying to remember the past, was the one and only indicator that all of it really happened. That Min and the boy were living in her house for a week, and that then was a time when she experienced true friendship, even if just for a second. And then, a direction naturally came into her way.

  On the right side of the street, a big flashing sign swung by the mercy of the wind. It announced an art store and Sol, with utmost fluidity and certainty, walked right in to the counter, to place a big order to her home address. She ordered several pounds of affordable clay for her sculpting adventure to start.

  By the time another week rolled out, Sol already sculpted most of Min’s figure. Trough the day, she ran the flower shop with a part-time assistant. This time around it was a young woman, rapidly approaching her thirties, who knew quite a lot about florist occupation due to her aunt’s previous business in the same field. It was easy to work with the young woman, sometimes they even cracked jokes about trivial matters of their work, and on those occasions, Sol wished to meet Min again. But the only time she could really meet with the mysterious girl from the past was when the evening came around, and she returned to her little sculpting experiment.

  It took Sol two solid weeks of dedicated daily crafting, to finally behold Min in the clay. The finished product however, was quite horrifying. Sol took a step back to analyze the figure she somehow managed to create without previous knowledge, trusting herself like Hell instructed it was possible. But what she saw, was a terrifying representation of the girl, who seemed to be caught in great suffering, resembling the reoccurring type of nightmares she often had.

  The sculpture was in lying position, like her lower limbs were paralyzed and she could only support her entire body weight on one elbow, while the other hand stretched far ahead to grab onto something. Her gaze was intense, without fear, but the immobility the figure represented was oddly frightening. It was as if she deliberately ran into blazing fire just to see if hope would appear. From the waist down, Min was covered in severe fire scarring, and this detailed observation, which occurred only after Sol raised her hands from the clay in closure, made her crunch to the ground and burst into crying.

  What have I done to Min? Where did her beauty go?

  The questions of disbelief kept boiling up to the surface. This was indeed something horrible but at the same time, Sol was unable to destroy her creation. In fact, the longer she stared at the sculpture, crying her soul out in disgust and rejection, it became more and more obvious that this was the correct version of the girl. This was indeed the image Sol was always faced with whenever she encountered the girl.

  The statue held the exact same energy as the one that flowed inside of Min. The only difference being that it happened unconsciously and now, for the first time, the darkness stood under the light, visible to the naked eye to evaluate, become familiar with.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HIDDEN PROPHET

  I was in the church from my childhood memories. The light was faint but still bright enough for me to recognize that instead of the altar, there was my mother’s piano. It was turned towards the pews, were people normally prayed. The church was empty and I was compelled to sit behind the piano to start playing a melody. As soon as I hit the first note, Haven appeared in the middle of the front pew. The more notes I played, the more people from the past materialized out of thin air, watching me in silence. As I lifted my palms in ending, the whole hall of people started to burn and in an instance I was transformed into a stadium-like space, where everyone crawled, screamed, and fought the flames away from their bodies. In all this agony the mystery guy from the dreams appeared. He floated towards Min and leaned so close to her lips, almost kissing her. She lay in the posture of my statue and soon enough out of his mouth a beam of blinding light appeared, transitioning into her body until she was nothing but a glowing outline of her paralyzed body. This light shape reentered his body like liquid, dissolving on the spot. Everyone stayed the same, while I watched the horror from the stage, wanting to throw up.

  From the night Sol had the unnerving nightmare, following with the profound sweating, she never dreamed of Min again. All she was left with was a strong detachment from the girl, and no matter how sad it sounded, Sol was actually feeling light. She felt so relaxed that and even her breathing became deeper, in contrast to the usual quite shallow breaths that eventually hurt her chest. Sol took this as a sign to keep with sculpting even if the future offered no positive feedback. This was so extremely personal, she was certain it would follow her to the grave.

  ***

  The blooming season started, and with it a lot of additional work for the flower shop, which in turn occupied much of Sol’s free time. In the hectic schedule she made a bold decision of hiring another florist with the already present assistant that became a full time worker in the Smiling Gerbera. The two women’s chemistry appeared to be that of blood relation, surprising even the regular costumers of the store.

  Sol was now exclusively in charge of orders trough mail and phone, as well as managing import of freshly delivered flowers. Every other day, when it was still dark outside, she opened the backdoor of the flower shop and proceeded with new routine of preparing the business to run smoothly.

  What she had in plan was to eventually hire an accountant, or a very skilled florist that would be willing of taking over her shop. She would still be the main person in charge, but her instinct told her it was time to move on – to change direction.

  The opening and closing of the shop was in Sol’s domain, and due to sudden free hours in the meantime, she focused solely on sculpting and bringing backyard garden to life.

  She plucked out the ever-persistent weeds, planted seeds of mixed colored gladioluses, and cut the grass, with such ancient looking mower it was a miracle it still worked. As for the sculpture, the next on the list was no other than the boy.

  Strangely enough, it took her quite some time to gather her mind in the right state direction to start with sculpting. Hell, was a difficult subject to craft, as he practically vaporized out of her memories. And even in her dreams, he was the sole individual without a
presence. The only dream figure that resembled him in energy was the mystery guy. Overall, they looked so very different from one another it was ridiculous to even think of sculpting him in the shape of a being, pulled out of her imagination.

  But in all honesty, that was the best Sol came up with, so she plunged into it without planning or expectation.

  This time it was a standing pose, which required much more patience, correct proportion, as well as much more clay as he was supposed to look older than a teenage boy who stayed at her house. Sol made a phone order of another few pounds of the desired material, while working on details like clothing, hair, and fingers. The face was still blank, with only visible shape being prominent nose, and upper lip being slightly more protruding than the lower one.

  Hours passed as he came more and more to life, and by the Saturday’s evening, the boy of different image was at last standing in front of her.

  Funny thing was she still dreamed of him on the same night, and for many nights to come, as if nothing had happened. The people in the nightmare moved trough fire, while he wandered between them, not affected by the unbearable heat or suffering.

  Perhaps because it was Sunday, or because Sol exhausted every ounce of revived creative energy, she woke up few minutes before noon. The soft cotton sheets wrapped her body in such a way it was hard to get up. But as she looked at the scenery trough the window, a different button turned on.

  The sky was washed to the clear blue, without any hints of incoming spring rain, which strangely comforted her more than the cotton she was bathing in. She stretched her legs and proceeded with the main chore of the day: cleaning the house.

  In the middle of vacuuming the first floor, a persistent buzzing sound alerted her ears to pay attention. As she switched the vacuum cleaner off, Sol could realize the doorbell rang in intervals, not seeming to stop. She quickly ran towards the main door, unlocking them without any precaution of checking the person trough the peephole, like she would normally do.

  The door swung open and before her stood the boy.

  It took Sol’s brain a handful of long seconds, to properly process a new situation and deliver as much of a neutral response, as she was possibly capable of. However, before her words started to get transmitted to her tongue, she was cut short, catching herself in yet another surprise.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ said the boy with his ever-serene face, making Sol question her senile memory, as to how did she come about forgetting these beautiful features in the first place. ‘I’ve just thought about you and then remembered you owe me something. And here I am.’

  ‘I owe... what do I owe you?’ the sudden demand bewildered Sol even more, barely holding her composure together.

  ‘The sculpture, remember?’

  ‘Ah! Of course I remember. Come inside,’ she gestured to step inside to close the door in case another surprise might come crushing into her. ‘I’m in the middle of cleaning, so excuse my messy place.’

  ‘I prefer mess to cleanness, any day,’ said the boy, while looking over the place, forming a slight smile.

  ‘But you are so good at cleaning. Don't you like it?’

  ‘I actually hate it. It was always expected of me to do it, that's why I’m good I guess.’

  Sol recalled his fluid movements while organizing her current shelter. This brought another set of memories from the time she quietly observed Min’s skillful hands, crafting splendid bouquets, now heavily wondering if she also hated that kind of thing. If the girl perhaps hated flowers, simply because that was something expected of her to do.

  ‘Would you like some tea or juice?’ a light question ended a theme he obviously wanted to avoid.

  ‘No thanks, I’m just here to see your sculpture.’

  ‘What if I tell you I didn't make one, would you still stay?’

  ‘I know you made one,’ he said without hesitation, his pupils expanding.

  ‘How do you know that with such certainty?’

  ‘I told you before about my practice theory. It’s the same with anything else. You could say, I have a pretty good instinct, intuition or whatever you call it. You can even test me if you don't believe me.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘I hope you also stopped with that thing.’

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Doubting yourself.’

  Unable to form a decent reply, she showed the boy way to the garage in silence.

  Once they entered the previously neglected part of the house, Sol could only then detect how strongly the smell of clay still hung in the air, accompanying by the ever-so-persisting dampness.

  He stopped to look at lying Min who stretched her hand towards his direction. After a momentarily pause his lips shaped into a proud smile, as if this was the most accurate portrayal of his otherwise extremely striking sister. Then, without much hesitation, his gaze fixed on the eyes of the young man. However as Sol watched over his reaction, she saw he revealed nothing at all. The boy simply stood there looking at the vacant eyes, the same from Sol’s dreams, devoid in expression and emotion.

  After a minute or so, the boy finally formulated the thoughts on his blank face, ‘he looks too polished. Too perfect.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  ‘That wasn't a compliment.’ His sharp remark cut trough her smiling face, style of speaking reminiscing Min. ‘What I meant is in comparison to her,’ now pointing to a blur form of his burning sister, ‘she is exactly like that, at least to me. But this guy, he is too beautiful. Unreal even.’

  His comment confused her because she knew that yes, he may have been too beautiful, but the burning girl was certainly more unreal than him. ‘What if he is supposed to look like that?’

  ‘Don't get me wrong. The statue is great, just something is off.’

  ‘Even if I change him, I don't know what would I do differently.’

  ‘If you want to change something, don't think too much. People aren’t meant to do much thinking, just follow the instinct.’

  ‘How do you even come up with these rules?’

  ‘Well, they certainly work as you’ve done such a nice job with these statues, while following them.’ Looking at her under the brow, to throw an additional confirmation of short, ‘right?’ only to start laughing at his joke, which in fact didn't sound as funny to the perceived ears.

  The garden had barely entered the first blooming stage and while the process grew steadily with each day, there were still so many little things to do.

  Sol put her house cleaning on hold as soon as she finished with vacuuming the first floor. In the meanwhile, the boy had already walked into the warm spring day in the backyard where they decided to meet. He intently observed the flower buds patient ride towards the big revelation. Before approaching him, Sol briefly stopped, gazing over his standing figure, now looking at the oak tree.

  This is another back that I would have no problem recognizing, she thought, while recalling the same experience she had with Min of whom affection essentially disappeared.

  If this unfamiliar feeling occurred before the whole art experiment, she believed it would kill a part of her so deep, she wouldn't even knew existed, but would nevertheless crippled her daily life. However, as the mysterious girl became only a fading memory, of something once considered beautiful and unexplainable, she thought the life could go on just fine without her silent guidance.

  Perhaps I really grew stronger.

  ‘I thought you need some help with plants, but I can see you are doing pretty well,’ said the boy, this time around offering a sincere compliment. ‘Honestly, I’m quite impressed.’

  This made Sol snort in laughter, ‘what did you expect of a florist?’

  ‘It’s strange because I never considered you would be good with nature as such. There is a different nature inside of you, which you are obviously great at.’

  It was very unusual for Sol to keep receiving these types of flattering words, in instances making her cheeks glow in faint shade
of red. The last time she heard a variety of encouragement was in her early childhood. But that soon faded into pretense game, as soon as she opened her eyes to the truth.

  And then suddenly, out of nowhere, a teenage boy came into her life, whose words she could never even dare to link with the meaning of deceitfulness. It would be a lie if she tried to brush the crafted feedback off, throwing them far behind, where no hand could reach them. Sol was touched and if she listened closely, she could hear he was being honest, no ulterior motive showing, no image trying to protect.

  As the afternoon sun, gradually lose its power and as a result enabled them to do any additional work in the garden, the boy proposed a sudden question.

  ‘Do you have any plans for tonight?’ he asked, after a long pause as if he knew her reaction would be a headshake, a negative response. ‘Since you’ve given me a gift I would also like to show you something. But it’s a bit of a walk from here. Are you in?’

  Soon after, they headed towards the main streets that grew narrower, exposing them to only one possible option left: a forest.

  Sol followed his steps obediently like a small trained animal. As they silently walked on the visible road among the trees, the boy fastened his step and took a path that lead to a heavy curve on their left side. There, denser forest spread, bringing out a quite harsh darkness even in the middle of the afternoon. She had been in the woods many times before, but this time, she strangely didn't remember much. Like she was suddenly thrown into the foreign country, not comprehending a single sight in front of her. Like she forgot how to see properly.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Sol, slightly concerned for their safe way back.

  ‘Don't worry, just follow my lead.’ His voice sounded once more calm and collected, like that of a wise old man, which was obviously a complete opposite to his real age and appearance.

  ‘But I can’t see anything. Nothing at all!’

  Then suddenly, Sol felt a touch of his palm tightly gripping hers. ‘That is why I am leading you,’ he reaffirmed that all the fear was unnecessary.