17 Last Times

⤹3❁ Silence

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘! 𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 2 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜, 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢. 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚎 (𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢) 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕.

𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚡𝚡

__________

𝓝𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷

The day has folded in quickly. Davina left around afternoon, then I got on with some tattoo designs that are due by the end of this week.

Now it's half six in the evening, and I'm staring at the sky, dim grey from the upcoming nightfall, burnt orange at the horizon, melded with a humbling smudge of yellow; the same shade trees have recently turned.

Stubbornly, I try to ignore the discomfort in my back. It's been over an hour since I rested against a seat of the bench, on which Davina is now asleep, and my buttocks have turned numb from sitting on the ground, hard and cold due to the season change. But I can't leave. Not without first making sure that she's alright. I could probably use my jacket as a padding for my frozen and stiff bottom, except I draped it over Davina's shoulders the moment I had noticed her snoozing out here in the cold.

Shortly after she'd left my house, I received a message from Will — exchanging numbers had become a necessity; we both wanted to know she's safe at all times. He asked me whether I'd heard off Davina. Aware of the invidious situation that had occurred during their morning, I understood that she wasn't ready to return to his house, and there was only one place I knew of, bar my own, to which she would immediately traverse when feeling troubled or overwhelmed.

The cemetery.

Poor soul must've unintentionally dozed off after defusing all over her frustration and sorrow through talking to her parents. Sometimes my mind boggles when I dwell on what it actually feels like — blabbering at a stone slab, as if it was covered in runes, which read out loud, could chase away all misfortunes and undo the turn of events. But nothing has that much of a power, and Davina is well aware of it, yet she still decides to come here almost on the daily and continue her monologue. That. That is the most powerful instance of a man's faith.

The wind picks up gently, making the flowers, laid by the grave, flutter their many-hued petals to its rhythm. I stare at the companion headstone. It's a swan, not too ostentatious, with his pristine white wings enveloping a milky heart, emblazoned with sapphire-blue epitaph. Only Davina could have chosen such a delicate but graceful design.

I still can't believe it. Two lovely people whom I have gotten to know are now gone. The exact same people who created the girl I fell in love with, for which, I am now letting myself catch a possible cold.

I turn my face towards Davina when she unintentionally shifts in her sleep and drops her arm onto my shoulder. As if having sensed my body underneath her limp arm, her eyes flutter open languidly.

"Nathan?" The words come out as a hoarse mutter. She props herself on her elbow, slowly sitting straight up. The jacket slips off her shoulders, landing right beside her. Her eyes, hazed with drowsiness, turn in that direction, then slide back to me. "What are you doing here?" she asks timidly, as if caught performing some shenanigans.

I watch her grasp the jacket and pass it to me with a thankful, yet awkward smile.

I lift myself off the ground and drape it back around her shivering shoulders. "Will messaged me, asking if you're okay. I figured you didn't want to face him, and this was the only place I could think of where I could find you."

She moves on the bench, making some room for me. "Oh." Is all she says, rubbing her eyes.

I take a seat and ponder for a while, not wanting for my words to come out wrong. "So . . ." I clear my throat. "Is there any specific reason why you started taking naps in the cemetery?"

She fidgets slightly in her spot, as if feeling embarrassed, then locks her sight on the headstone, or rather the names that have been added to it. "I wasn't talking to them, if that's what you think."

Her statement throws me, but before I get to respond, she carries on.

"I never do. Never did. I . . . I can't . . ."

My head snaps in her direction. "I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you did, and if I'm being entirely frank, that's exactly what I thought you were coming here for."

Davina sucks her bottom lip in between her teeth, and her eyes, stubbornly diverted at the stone swan, sadden to such an extent that I wish I hadn't said anything.

"I can't talk to them. I didn't want to speak to either of them before they died, so why would I think I've got the right to come here now and bother them with my lugubrious talk?" The words are drenched in self-hatred.

I slouch on the bench, downright shocked. I thought she visited her parents to let out whatever bothers her, but I guess I was wrong, big time. "So what do you do when you're here?" My voice emerges quite ginger. I don't want to sound intrusive.

She glances over at me, then the headstone. "I sit and listen," she confides firmly. "I listen to the silence to remind myself that that's exactly what I wanted, and now I've got it forever. Nothing but fucking silence."

I think back to the first week after the accident. Davina told about the disagreement between her and her mother, and how it had also affected the relationship with her dad. She didn't beat around the bush. She disclosed everything in detail, including the ridiculous things she'd done to catch Will's attention — someone who couldn't appreciate her enough for who she was. But I can. I always could, and it agonizes me not to be able to show her how much she means to me, because I know that I shouldn't take advantage of her current, vulnerable state in order to make her mine again. It wouldn't be fair towards her.

The need to speak my thoughts nags me from within, and I can't help but think that Davina was actually right; sometimes there is nothing we can do but sit and listen to the fucking silence.

__________

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔?