Reverence - Book 2

- 34 -

"What is a window but a true reality show?"

 The heavy thump of the wicker hamper beside me made my skin flash. Imelda leaned against the basket, grinning coyly down at me. 

"You scared me." 

I murmured, sliding my sunglasses into my hair. 

"It's not polite to stare" 

She sighed, plopping down beside me. She slid white waxen petals between her cool fingers. 

"I wasn't" 

I mused, burying my spade into the dark earth. I could see the turn of her lips from the corner of my eye. 

"He's like a cat, lazily parading for his onlookers."

She said now, pulling the petals back. 

Luca was pacing in front of the great windows of his study, the amber glass eyes of the tiger rug preening back. 

I let my bottom lip draw between my teeth, watching his animation as his arms moved and the tendons of his neck slithered under his tan skin. The set of his jaw told me he was tense, the clutch of his fist told of anger. 

"Tell me, Lena. How are things? As they once were?" 

I looked at Imelda, watching her wrap damp cheese cloths over the angular cut stems of the tulips. 

"No, actually." 

I whispered, taking the shears into my own hand. 

Her brow arched. 

"Tell me." 

I gnawed through the green legs, snipping away loathsome fronds. 

"It's as if I've never known him at all." 

I sighed. 

"There was fire, and there was Luca. I used to believe they were the same. But now, I'm not sure. It's as if he is heat. I can feel him, and it's all around me. But there is no pain." 

"But in the end, heat can be killing, no?" 

I placed the cool cloths over my bare thigh. 

"Better than to have been burned." 

I watched the white heads bob, the wind flickering between them. 

"I wish he would've showed this side of himself to you before. You've changed him Yelena." 

I scoffed. 

"One can not change another." 

She Tsked, her tongue clicking behind her teeth.

"Oh but it's true. He became another. How they say, black and white. When you first arrived, he was black. The ferocity, the condemnation. He was darkness, and when you left, the door eclipsed his soul and he became white. There was no longer a hurry. Desire. He was without himself indefinitely. I think that now, he's learning to simply be grey." 

"Grey." 

I whispered back. 

"Oh yes. It's much easier to comprehend the grey." 

"How so?" 

I asked, my eyes trailing the oceanic glass, watching him swim around in his silence. I placed a bouquet into Imelda's basket. 

"It's was easiest to think in black and white. what's right, what's wrong. Is and is not. But you can't color a human. Where there is right, there was a notion of wronged invocation. They are not within but also they are without, mending. Meshing. They become grey. Like when you are so angry, your hands become iron but your soul bends, crumpling like a dying petal." 

Between her slight fingers, she rolled a failed white petal, it's silky skin bending and wrinkling. 

"Or is still whole, but now it is different." 

I watched it flutter down around her knees. 

"You become different when you are grey." 

He had stopped his circling, his lithe body leaned against that great wood desk. I could see his face, the concentration drawn over dark brows. 

"Like when you hold onto once that was and ignore what could be." 

I murmured. 

"Yelena, he has never been summer. He has always craved the cold. The darkness, the power. The beauty. Because with the cold, comes..." 

"The grey" 

I spoke, my gaze transfixed on him, his dark eyes cast down on me now. 

Imelda's smile burned through her lilting voice. 

"Have you ever wondered about the flowers you cut with your own hands?" 

I glanced away, admiring the swath of angelic white tulips laid into my lap. 

"Part of being grey, is admitting to the holiness of your mistakes. To know you're not a perfect being and that you are tarnished but enough to be polished anew. To submit to yourself, you must make amends. He has never been able to apologize, but he has always been a man of gesture." 

She extended her hand to me, between her fingers a single white tulip, it's leaves striped and petals symmetrical and pure. 

I let it slide between my own and suddenly it was not a single flower. It was moonlight shining onto my skin and the smell of tobacco from a cob pipe. And the midnight water and the breeze of...

I stood abruptly. 

He was always there, never able to say the words but show them to me instead. Before his lips touched against mine and our bodies bled into one. 

"I have to go." 

I murmured over my shoulder as I started towards the house, my heart pounding mercilessly in my throat. 

~

A Note from your author 

I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. I have attempted to continue this story several times since now and every time I would venture to this draft, I found it to be a dauntless task. 

The realization that I had become burnt out was apparent, and frankly I had lost the love of writing. 

It had been my escape, my vision of reality. But when the world sweeps your feet from under you, it's hard to find the want of escape. 

After a much needed and deserved break I've decided to come back to Reverence and give it it's well earned end. 

Thank you for giving me grace during this unprecedented time in my life and thank you for your continued patience and support.