Sam & Ellie The Fall Before Spring

Part 4

She needed to keep busy because every time she stopped her thoughts wandered to Sam. Her hands itched for movement while her mind ran a mile a minute. Cleaning. She always felt better after a good few hours of cleaning. So that's what she did. Bathroom, kitchen, living room. No surface went unwiped, no drawer left cluttered. Every vase in the house had been turned to the correct angle, Ellie even took the time to dig out her diffuser. The essential oils did little to calm her but it smelled nice- tangerine, vanilla and what she couldn't place but reminded her of spring and the smell of her mother's garden- flowers blooming. The one place of calm in her mother's chaos.

Spring had been her favourite season, Sam always said she was like spring and that he was winter but she always thought of him as fall. Beautiful, changing. He smelled like crisp air on an autumn day and warm spices- faintly nutmeg, like the coziness of a hot drink and book as she read on a windowsill occasionally watching the leaves fall. Like home. Like comfort.

She turned to the diffuser, quickly emptying it to change the scent. Searching, she easily found nutmeg and others to put into it. Focusing on the numbers, she tried to measure the scent she could recognize in her dreams.

When the apartment smelled like Sam and she was satisfied with the likeness she continued to clean.

When it came to organizing their bedroom she always hesitated. There were too many secrets shared in the room, too many times she had found his stash or a bottle of vodka or whiskey, hidden away, eventually, she stopped looking. It was the idea of being alone with her thoughts that pushed her to the place she knew was the messiest. At the back of their closet was a slim but tall dresser. Pushing the clothes aside she opened the top drawer, her eyes stinging involuntarily as she pulled out a little blue baby beanie. A part of her that was instinct told her to put it back, to close the drawer and wait. But she knew, it was time. Even as her throat closed and her breathing became uneven, she continued, and slowly she sorted through all the baby clothes, keeping the handmade things that she couldn't part with and setting aside the things she could. Each garment a memory, a picture of the future they thought they would have before it was taken away.

At the bottom of the drawer, she found a picture, it was the last picture she had taken while pregnant. She was hunched over in the skimpiest dress she could find at the time that would fit her rounded belly as Sam threw monopoly money all over her. Their faces filled with pure joy and excitement. Ellie laughed. For the first time in a while, she truly laughed, loud and joyous the sound pricking at her numbed heart, threatening to melt the walls around it.

What an odd pair they were. The smile stayed wide on her face as she brought the picture close to her heart. As though she could absorb the happiness and love from that picture. The promise of a new tomorrow before it was broken, frozen in place, forever.

Eventually, she finished the task she'd put off for three years. Clothes that were going to be donated were folded and put aside. Later she would bring herself to take them in. Step by step. But before she turned away something caught her eye. A small shoebox had been wedged between the dresser and the wall. Her eyebrows knitted together, anxiety churning as she reached back, knowing what was in it before she opened it. Her heart still pounded though, as she lifted the lid.

Needles. Inside the shoebox was needles. Her stomach dropped and her temper rose as her heart quickly reinforced the icy layer protecting it. Why was she surprised? She knew what was in that box before she opened it, but she never thought that he would stoop so low, hiding his stash behind their unborn child's dresser. A place he knew she wouldn't look. A place she couldn't.

Disgust and disappointment rolled through her veins as Ellie stared with vacant eyes. Why couldn't he just throw it away? Why did he have to put it here? Because you wouldn't find it. She refused to feel sadness, didn't have enough energy to feel sadness or anger or anything anymore. What line would end things? When would she walk away? The answer came to her before she really asked the question. She wouldn't. And some old part of her fought to get out but she shut her eyes against it, against the disgust at herself for who she had become.

She stared at the box, couldn't tear her eyes away from it as she noticed the paper beneath the dime bags and needles. A part of her didn't want to reach in to pull it out but curiosity won, and she reached in any way. On the paper in Sams's scraggly writing laid, "Don't do it, Sam, think about Ellie. She needs you, you need her. You're team Samellie."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Samellie?" Ellie repeated, wrinkling her nose.

"Yeah," Sam laughed, the sound warm and full of mirth, almost distracting her.

"No."

"Why not?" Sam asked, his voice almost whiney

Ellie made a noise between a scoff and a laugh, "Because it sounds like smelly."

"Yeah," Sam said, "Perfect for us."

"What is that supposed to mean," Ellie asked, putting her hands on her hips, trying to keep the smile off her face.

"Oh I don't know," Sam said, walking to her with mischief glimmering in his eyes, "Maybe that you really are smelly," he paused, inhaling loudly. This time it was his nose that wrinkled. "Woah," he said, fanning the air, "when was the last time you showered?"

"Wha- I just showered," she squawked.

"Smelly Ellie," he taunted.

"Oh yeah?" She stepped closer. "I'm smelly?"

"Mhm."

She smiled wickedly. It was a particularly hot day and before he could begin to question her she wiped her armpits collecting the pomegranate scented sweat before rubbing it across his face and twisting out of his range.

Ellie watched Sam's face go blank with shock and she giggled at the sight. "Now we really are team Samellie."

"You're gonna regret that," he said, eyes alight.

"I doubt that," was all she said before she took off running.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She wished she could go back. Back to when things were lighter. When the love she had for him lifted her up instead of weighing her down. He was her best friend, her soulmate. She'd spent eight years loving him and if it were up to her she'd spend many more. Although in the end, she'd love him forever.

Something tugged at her. Maybe it was a piece of herself that had been awakened, the piece that fought Ellie every day to get out. Maybe it was the dresser that had sparked something. It didn't matter what had sent her there as her legs carried her to a familiar hallway closet. With a twist of the cold brass knob, she opened it, revealing rows of old canvases. The top shelf was filled with blank ones; the bottom shelf with complete pieces. She couldn't say she remembered what her last painting was, and as she reached for a blank canvas a familiar buzz came over her.

Paint was mixed, her easel set up, music turned on. She painted, her delicate hand controlling each stroke of the brush, each highlight and shadow, each sharp and soft line, deliberate. She focused on the blue, on capturing the emotion.

The reference was an image she had seen many times. An image she'd seen so often that it was forever imprinted in her mind. She stepped back to stare into the eyes that saw her soul.

Royal blue and eternally sad, the eyes she had spent hours staring into. Framed by his dark brows and thick lashes, she had gotten the colour right, royal blue mixed with the depth of the sea. She ran her finger along the edge of the canvas absently wondering where the owner of the eyes was and prayed he would come home to her.