by J. L. Weil
I couldn’t tell if I was flattered or insulted. “Sorry about… running into you,” I uttered and turned toward the parking lot not waiting for a response. I couldn’t get to my car fast enough.
When I got inside my aging mustang, I wasn’t sure what to do next or where to go. Everything inside me was muddled. An inability to get a handle on the ratted emotions overcame me. The lingering exhaustion from my anger slowly started dissipating and was now accompanied by the bursting excitement in my chest. All of it was too much. The need to unwind and smooth my frazzled nerves was too great to ignore. The first thing that came to mind was my aunt and her shop, Mystic Floral and Gifts.
Chapter 2
MY AUNT WAS LIKE NO OTHER – she was amazing. Her small floral boutique was located in the heart of downtown Holly Ridge – my part-time job. The short ride from school had done little for my frayed emotions. I felt like I had just been bunging jumping, flying from pissed off to shame – a giant drop. Then to a confused excitement that if I didn’t know better resembled attraction. This Gavin wasn’t my type, not that I really had a type. You’d have to have dated. My inabilities to find a niche in life were no doubt contributing factors.
My aunt’s shop was enchanting and potent. The second you walked in you were dazzled with the serene smells of lilies, lavender and freesia. She has this impressive window display that captivated people, encouraging them in, showing off her flair for the dramatic. Cornflower velvet draped over stands of various heights, her floral arrangements cascading over like green waterfalls, clusters of rainbow crystals sparkling like magic in the morning sun.
I’ve always had a complete ease and sense of belonging here. The atmosphere she created was what I identified with – otherworldly, fantasy, an escape from reality. Right now I needed all of the above.
Walking into the shop I noticed my aunt behind the glass counter with a customer. Her silky long caramel hair lay softly over her shoulders. Such a contrast to my own dark strands. Her smooth and creamy skin shone flawless against the sunbeams from the storefront windows and soft mahogany eyes twinkling.
My Aunt Clara is my legal guardian. Her and my mom had been twins. Sometimes it was peculiar having my aunt look and sound like an exact duplicate of my mom. When I was younger it had been much more difficult.
At age five I came to live with my Aunt Clara here at her home. I was orphaned after a drunk driver killed both my parents on New Years Eve. Gwynn and Andrew Rafferty had been on their way home from a business event with my dad’s firm when the tragic accident occurred. I don’t have clear memories of that day, only a snapshot in my head of the way they were elegantly dressed and the smell of her perfume, like roses as she hugged me good-bye.
I do remember the empty confusion after the fact. My aunt cried with me through our pain, kissed the salty tears from my eyes and held onto me at night when I was frightened and alone. She became my rock.
Even now, years later, when I caught the scent of a rose in full bloom, I would ache. And wonder what life would have been. The what if game… I detested playing those wishing games. The lost of my parents wasn’t something I reflected on often. Although, it snuck up on me and squeezed the place they hold in a corner of my heart.
Mostly I deluded myself into believing that I was nothing but an average teenager. After today, my doubts skyrocketed. What I needed was confirmation that I wasn’t an oddity or needed to be locked up in the loony bin. Maybe I did need therapy. But right now I wanted my aunt.
Passing by one of the mirrors used on display, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. A loud sigh escaped my lips. How I yearned for the elegant grace and classic beauty of my mom and aunt. In truth there were none of those traits within me. Instead I was graced with unmanageable auburn hair. My skin was anything but flawless, maybe it would have passed for adequate if not for the dusting of freckles over the bridge of my dainty nose. I scrunched it in the reflection just to prove my point.
My aunt said I have a unique look. What does that mean? Does she mean unique as in appealing or unique as in odd? Probably she is just trying to keep my self-esteem from reaching a negative point. I had a hard time looking at myself and visualizing anything uncommon. Just the same face. The one I’ve seen for the last seventeen years – ordinary.
I’ll admit I did have an odd feature. One I guessed you could call novel – my eyes. They are a profound violet – like an amethyst.
Strolling around the shop I trailed a finger along the shelves, trying everything to distract my mind. Mystic Floral was my aunt’s heart and soul. She was divorced and I think the store had become her saving grace. Being the owner did take an exuberate amount of her time. She often felt guilty that I spent much of it alone and taking care of myself. When I was younger I would spend my afternoons in the shop till closing. This place had been as much of home as the house on Mulberry.
I admired my aunt’s gift with plants and her artistic design to make something beautiful. It was in this place I could breathe. The smells were so alive and aromatic – the environment spellbinding. I traced my nail along some of the new colored decorative bottles she had arranged glistening against crystal stones.
“Brianna.” Her voice was like a warm hearth, filled with security. I turned to face her. “You’re early, is everything okay?” She checked the time on her wrist.
Swallowing hard I didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or hug her. Instead I lied, something that I don’t do very well. “I got sick before last period.” I kept my eyes averted to the tiled floor and silently prayed she wouldn’t see through my ruse.
She pursed her lips looking concerned. “Why don’t you go home and take the night off. You look a little… peaked.” Her caring suggestion only made me feel more guilty than I thought possible.
“It’s not as bad now,” I assured. “Would it be alright if I stayed?” I asked hesitantly. I really wanted her company – the calm reassurance of love.
“Yeah honey, if that’s what you want.” She totally didn’t buy my flimsy excuse, but I knew she wouldn’t hound me till I was ready to talk.
I nodded my head.
“Why don’t you help me set out some of these arrangements I just finished.” She encouraged knowing that I needed anything to help ease my mind.
An hour into my shift I headed to the backroom in hopes of occupying my thoughts with homework. Mister dark and dangerous seemed to find a way to flitter his way into my head. The shop had a bell on the door that chimed at the arrival of a customer.
I found my aunt sitting at her work table crafting a display with flowers my untrained eyes have yet to be able identify. She cut the ends on their long stems. “Feeling any better?” Concern feed her tone.
I took a seat beside her, picking up the discarded stems. “Yeah some.” Surprisingly it was true.
“Good. You want to talk about?” She could tell that something was bothering me. I sucked at hiding my emotions – and lying.
I sighed. “I just had a horrible day.” Horrific was more like it. “I had a headache that wouldn’t quit. Then a girl at school was bullying Austin and –” I paused, not sure how to tell her.
“Did you say something to this girl?” She clipped another stem from a pretty blush colored flower.
“I kind of grabbed her arm. Hard.” Admitting it was tougher than I expected and kept my eyes locked onto the grain of the table.
She put the flower down and eyed me. “Did it go further than that?” she asked probably wondering if we’d exchanged blows in the halls. The whole hair pulling and nail scratching deal or if she was going to be getting a call from the principal.
I shook my head, lifting my gaze. “I left school right after and came here. I wanted to punish her for all the crap she’s been giving Austin, but I didn’t want to physically hurt her.” Well if I was being honest with myself, at the time that is exactly what I wanted to do. Reflexively I brush
ed a strand of stray hair behind by ear.
She eyed me with worry. “I know it’s challenging dealing with those who have no care for others feelings. You did nothing wrong by defending your friend.”
Then why did I have so much guilt? I knew that she was trying to pacify my inner turmoil, but I wasn’t sure there was anything she could say that would absorb it from me.
“I know that in my head but it’s my conscious that doesn’t agree. I feel like I lost myself somewhere during the day. Like my control just snapped,” I begrudgingly admitted and slumped in my seat.
“What happened may be uncharacteristic for you, but everyone has a breaking point. Maybe you found yours.” She gathered the fresh cut flowers and began piecing them into a crystal vase.
“Yeah, I guess.” I was unconvinced.
Pushing the abundance flower filled vase aside, she faced me. “You have always had a soft heart. If someone needed you there was no question that you would help. The stray animals you found. It’s something to proud of.”
Her words recalled a memory of me at nine caring for a weakened baby bunny lost from its family. Immediately I took it in, swaddled it in blankets and feed it baby formula with an eye dropper. For weeks I dotted on this tiny bunny, afraid he wasn’t going to be strong enough on his own, willing with all my might that he would survive. He did. The day I released him back into the trees bordering my yard was a mixture of gratified happiness and an achy sorrow – but I knew he was going to thrive.
“Your right.” I attempted a half smile for her sake. Propping my elbows on the table, I placed my chin in my hands and exhaled. “Now all I have to deal with is the gossip of tomorrow.”
“You’re stronger than you can imagine,” she said as she engulfed me in hug filled with unconditional love. Her hair brushed against my cheek and smelled of lilacs. Leaning my head on her shoulder, I took a moment to appreciate what she meant to me.
By the time my shift ended at the shop I was physically spent. I pulled up into our driveway and my eyes roamed over the house of all my childhood memories, the two-story pearly white colonial trimmed in black. A veranda swept off both sides of the house. In the center of the front view was a massive cobblestone fireplace. Here and there the cobblestone was accented throughout. My aunt of course landscaped the yard, looking like something out of Better Homes and Gardens.
My favorite part of the house has always been the large pear tree that sat off the garage. I loved when the tree blossomed in the spring, stuffing its branches with the white flowers. The sheen petals forever ended up dusted over the yard. My aunt inherited the house from my Grandma when she declared there was just too much unused space for just her. She wanted something low-key and less work, a maintenance free townhome. The house had been a part of our family for generations and was very old but well kept.
Walking inside I headed to the kitchen. The house was quiet and creaked in certain spots underfoot. There were some leftovers from last night that I had planned on having for dinner but my stomach was still unsettled from the day’s events. Grabbing a can of coke from the fridge, I headed upstairs to my room.
Moving out of habit, I changed my clothes and discarded the old ones in the hamper. By nature I was neat and liked things in order. Going to the window, I cracked it, letting the twilight breeze into my room, cooling the humidity. I pulled back the covers, fluffed my pillow and climbed into bed.
That night I found the restlessness had returned and I was unable to sleep in spite of being exhausted. My mind raced with imagines, darting from Rianne to Gavin and back to Rianne. What had happened to me today? I didn’t even recognize myself – fighting, ditching school, engaging with a trouble maker that I had wanted to kiss. Covering my hands over my face with mortification at just the thought of how I’d acted – I was a basket case.
Snippets of Rianne’s cherry rash on her arm and the terror and accusation in her face kept me up. My mind over exaggerated the incident. There had to be a rational explanation of what I’d done and more importantly how. So I grabbed her arm, but tight enough to leave marks like that? It was the only plausible solution my mind could come up with and nowhere near made me feel better.
Eventually in the late hours of the night, my body relinquished to the rest it sought. My dreams however, were anything but peacefully.
Chapter 3
THE DREAM WAS ONE I had many times before. Maybe not the same dream per se but always of him. The blond haired boy with emerald eyes which beckoned me – Lukas Devine. He was as divine as his name indicated. He looked like the boy next door, clean cut, athletic built and a charming smile. The random dreams of him have existed since I can remember. They have become such a part of my sleep that I welcomed his arrival.
The fact that I converse with a hot guy in my dreams was just another sad page of my so called life. He had been the most exciting part, gloomy I know, till my run-in with Gavin. I chopped it off to being stuff dreams were made of. Perhaps that feeling only existed in the fantasy my mind created. Other than this made-up guy of my dreams, no one had come close to making me feel the heat rushed exhilaration I’d experience with Gavin.
The dreams started when I was very young, five or six. He always appeared to me at the same age I was. We sort of grew up together. He’d been a friend, confidante, and playmate. Lately the pull of attraction seemed to heighten each time I dreamed of him. And because it was a dream, I could be everything I wasn’t in reality – not that I knew how to do that.
I was lying under a weeping willow, mile long branches swept overhead. The sound of a babbling brook flowing over scattered bedrock sounded in the distance, the ambrosial smell of sweet pea tainted the air. A suitable surrounding for dreams made of fairy tales.
The sun was cast above. Gleaming rays speared through pockets in the willow tree. Lukas lay next to me on his side, fiddling with strands of grass. He eyed me coolly, waiting for me to turn towards him. In these dreams it seemed he waited for me. My brain was unexplainable.
“Brianna.” His honey smooth timber spoke my name.
“Hi,” I replied lamely. Even my dreams I couldn’t master being anything other than me.
He smiled at me brightly. His entire face beamed with a golden glow. “Long time, no see.” He was lying beside me on the grass, propped up on the willows trunk. Months had gone by since my last dream of him.
“I know. I was beginning to think you forgot about me.”
He had one leg spread alongside me and the other one bent up. “These are your dreams, remember?” he teased lightly.
He was always so carefree and happy, with no care in the world. I had no idea how that felt. Responsibility seemed to be bred into my genes. We spent much of our doing things I wouldn’t dare do in my real life and divulging parts of my life I was afraid to tell anyone else.
Today was no different.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his bright smiling losing some of its shine.
Sitting up beside him on the trunk, I sighed. “What isn’t wrong is the question.”
He chuckled and brushed a stray hair from eyes, tucking it behind my ear. His touch surged a blooming of warmth over me. “It can’t be all that bad.” Always the positive outlook for Lukas, his world was a cup half full.
Picking at the grass growing near the base of the willow, my problems came to the forefront of my mind. “In my case, it is,” I grumbled, refusing to let go of my somber mood.
He looked amused by my discomfort. What is with all the guys being amused by me? I couldn’t figure out why my thoughts continued to drift to Gavin. There was an extremely gorgeous guy in my dreams and I was thinking about the rebel with the piercings. Maybe the problem was that Lukas wasn’t real and I wanted something real.
Even with the familiarity of Lukas there had always been an awareness of caution just under the surface. Although it never made much sense to me – I ignored the w
arning. He was a dream after all. What harm can he possible cause? Not to mention his attractiveness drew me. The more I dreamed of him, the closer I felt it. He was easy to be with. I should have just kissed him already. It’s not real, I rationed. Better yet, I should have kissed Gavin when the chance presented itself and a real possibility.
“Spill, we’ll figure it out together.” His encouragement was touching.
I looked out over the green valley. “I lost my temper today. It was bad,” I revealed bleakly.
“Are you sure it was as bad as you think?” he asked knowing that I occasionally over exaggerated.
“I don’t know. I guess if you consider grabbing a girls arm and leaving burn marks not bad then… yeah it wasn’t bad,” I snapped sarcastically.
His lips upturned at my melancholy disposition. “That’s bad.” He was trying to hide the smile that wanted to surface.
Playfully, I smacked him on the chest. “It was,” I admitted. “She deserved it though,” I defended, feeling the need to justify my actions.
“Of course she did. You wouldn’t do anything that someone didn’t deserve,” he blithely teased.
Looking into his face I immediately thought about what a contrast he was to Gavin. Like the sun and the moon. Lukas was the boy next door with his wholesome good looks and lighthearted sense of humor. He had the kind of smile that you just had to answer in return. Gavin made me think of shadows, starlight nights and werewolves.
As soon as the thought fluttered through my head, the dream took a drastic change. My head was so filled with thoughts of Gavin and Lukas that it took moments for me to realize the shift.
Suddenly, the air surrounding us began to transform. The brightened sun was covered by the swift approach of dark murky clouds. Threatening winds screamed and howled, whipping the branches in a war against us. It all happened so fast. I shuddered from the gloomy intensity.